Secondhand Hero
by Windflicker
Summary: Armed with a snooty Cyndaquil, a mysterious Egg, and the best wishes of her best friend Ethan, Lyra sets out from New Bark Town to escape the shadow of her friend, town hero Kris. Adventuring has always been her dream, so it should be easy, right? Right?
1. When You Were Young

**Chapter One: When You Were Young**

"Lyra! What are you doing?"

Lyra flinched as the Poke Ball slipped out of her hands and fell to the ground with a soft thump. She could hear the quiet sound of little feet scurrying away from her and into the depths of the forest. Her heart sank with disappointment.

A pigtail sliding over her shoulder, she turned, her eyes wide, and instinctively clutched the stuffed Teddiursa in her arms closer to her chest.

"Silly Lyra. It's only me." The speaker was an older girl who towered over her, though she was only a year older. _Half a year,_ Lyra corrected herself glumly. She straightened herself up, tugging at the suspenders on her denim overalls.

"Hi, Kris!" she greeted nervously.

"What were you just doing?" the girl asked, her blue-green eyes glowing with curiosity.

"N-nothing." Lyra ducked her head. A lock of brown hair fell over her eyes, shielding them from view. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Aw, come on. That's poppycock. Tell me!" Kris's striped sneakers slapped against the ground as she strode over to the younger girl. She bent over beside her, curious. "What's that?" she exclaimed, surprised, as her eyes alighted upon the small object lying in the dirt. "Lyra—is that a Poke Ball?"

"Ethan gave it to me!" Lyra blurted defensively, clutching Teddiursa closer. "He said—"

"Aw, _Ethan_." Kris leaned over, wrinkling her nose, plucked the Poke Ball off the ground. "Where did he even get it? You're too young to start catching Pokemon, both of you."

"I'm only half a year younger than you!" Lyra protested indignantly.

"One year," Kris returned with a smile. "I'm nine. You're only eight."

"I'll be nine soon—"

"You're still too young." Kris shook her head firmly. "Don't be silly, Lyra."

Lyra pursed her mouth shut. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with suppressed anger. "If you hadn't come over and made so much noise, I could've caught that Scyther."

Kris stopped, blinking, and then threw her head back with laughter, her spiky raven-blue pigtails bouncing up and down. "A Scyther? Really, Lyra, you think you could have caught a Scyther? They're hard for even _real_ trainers to catch. And dangerous." She bounced the Poke Ball—Lyra's Poke Ball—In her hand as she spoke. "Besides, don't you know anything? You have to _weaken_ a Pokemon first before you catch it. And you don't have any Pokemon."

Kris just had to rub it in every chance she got, didn't she? Lyra gritted her teeth. "Well, you don't have any, either!" she retorted.

Kris didn't even seem to hear her. _So confident_. She was always so confident, always ready to jump ahead with those shoes and that sporty little outfit of hers and tell other people off. If only Lyra could be like that. She sighed inwardly and bit her lip, bringing her attention back to what the other girl was saying.

"You shouldn't even be spending time around such dangerous Pokemon," Kris continued. She chuckled. "I bet it wasn't even a Scyther. I bet it was just a Caterpie. I bet it was your imagination."

"It was a Scyther!" Lyra cried. "Really—I saw it! The blades and everything! It was so close—"

"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Ly-Ly." Kris guffawed, and then Lyra felt a swooping sensation as arms slipped around her waist and lifted her clear off the ground.

"Hey! Hey—Kris—put me down!"

"Come on, Ly. Let's get you back home. Enough playing with imaginary Pokemon and Poke Balls; you could have hurt yourself."

"Kris! Stop it, Kris!" Lyra clenched her teeth and flailed her arms and legs, dropping Teddiursa on the ground. It was no use; the girl was much stronger and taller than she was. Kris hoisted her over her shoulder, her feet springing against the grass as she ran, out of the woods and back into the warm sunshine of New Bark Town.

Lyra sighed as she let her body relax, dropping her balled-up fists. It really was no use. Kris always won. It had always been that way.

"You shouldn't be hanging around the woods," the girl teased, as she set Lyra down on the grass by the front of her house. "There's big, bad, scary Pokemon out there. Now there we go. Little Lyra's all safe and sound again back home."

"Kris…don't," Lyra grumbled, reaching out. Kris giggled and turned away. Lyra watched her tall, athletic form vanish into the distance as Kris hopped on the bike stationed in front of her house, her yellow hat and her short pink jacket billowing in the wind as she rode away.

_How does that hat even stay on her head?_ Lyra wondered to herself. She raised her own hand to her head; her fingers met nothing but boringly straight, chestnut brown hair fastened in two tiny pigtails, as it always was. _Just like Kris_.

Lyra sighed and pulled herself to her feet, dusting off her white stockings and her long red sleeves. It wasn't fair; Kris even got a bike to ride around on. Lyra didn't have anything—no bike, no Pokemon, not even a single Poke Ball. And no hat. She wanted a hat. Almost every trainer had one. Like Kris.

Almost all of her thoughts ended with those two words, she thought sadly as she trudged back into the woods to pick up her dropped Teddiursa. Smoothing down his fuzzy brown fur, she held the stuffed Pokemon close to her.

_Someday I'll have a real one,_ Lyra promised herself, peering up into the sun-dappled leaves. _Someday, I'll be a Trainer. A really, really good trainer!_ she corrected herself. _I'll be the best trainer! That'll show Kris…and everyone!_

_And,_ she added on second thought, _I'll get myself a hat._

-.-.-

That afternoon, after she watched TV downstairs with her mom for a few hours, Lyra made her way next door and rang the doorbell. She waited expectantly on the doorstep.

Mrs. Gold answered the door. "Oh, hi there, Lyra!" the woman piped up brightly as she saw the girl standing before her.

"Is Ethan home?" Lyra asked hopefully. She wanted to thank him for the Poke Ball, to ask him where he had gotten it—and to tell him about that Scyther she had seen. Because it had been a Scyther. She was _sure_ it had been one. And she had almost caught it, she knew. Even if Kris had stolen her big chance.

Mrs. Gold shook her head, frowning. "I'm sorry, honey, he and his daddy are visiting his uncle in Goldenrod. I'm afraid he won't be back until tomorrow."

"Oh. That's okay!"

"All right, honey. He'll be glad to see you tomorrow, I'm sure!"

With that, Mrs. Gold shut the door, and Lyra made her way back toward her house, her stomach sinking with the inevitable wave of boredom. Her mind wandering, she eyed the Pokemon Lab in her neighborhood. It was almost right next to her house.

_Living there must be so cool,_ she mused. What she would have given to be around Pokemon like Professor Elm. She could see him now—kind, balding, absentminded, lugging an overly thick binder in one hand and a box of equipment in the other, dressed in a long lab coat. Sometimes her family had him over for dinner, and even then, he looked like he was in the middle of some groundbreaking research.

Kris's parents had promised her a starter for her twelfth birthday, Lyra remembered, and her face fell again. She was always bragging about it, always talking about the "connections" her family had with the professor. Always talking about how experienced with Pokemon she was.

Lyra shook her head. Kris was just as young as she was, just as innocent and childish. And her parents knew the professor, too. Ethan even helped him out from time to time. So why did Kris always have to pretend she knew so much more than they did?

_She's our town's hero, I guess_.

Lyra shrugged to herself. It made sense. That was just the way it had always been. Kris was the one who was destined to be great in Johto, to be the Champion or something amazing along those lines. She was so outgoing, so loud and confident and adventurous—everything Lyra wasn't.

Kris was the small-town New Barker who would carry that title of fame and glory, and Lyra knew it. She was like that boy, Red, had been in Kanto. Lyra herself? Just another ordinary girl.

She let out a puff of air and curled herself up on the bench in front of her house, Teddiursa resting in between her chest and her knees. It wouldn't have mattered so much if Lyra didn't _want_ to go on the adventure so badly, too. Sure, she could head out with Pokemon when she was of age, but could she really become Champion or come to anything great like that?

She could almost hear it; Kris laughing at her again for being so silly. Of course she couldn't. She was too young and shy and naïve, and a whole bunch of other adjectives the other girl could dig up and shove in her face…

Ethan wouldn't say that, though. Ethan would smile at her with his bright golden eyes and give her a pat on the back and tell her she could do it. Lyra grinned to herself. Of course he would; he was her best friend. And she still had to thank him for that Poke Ball.

With the reassuring thought tucked away in her mind, Lyra closed her eyes, resting her chin on Teddiursa's head and leaning forward. The sun basked them both in its golden rays, bathing her hair in light, so warm and gentle, like a blanket…

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, her eyes snapped open at a sudden noise to a cloak of darkness around the yard, replacing the light with shades of black and navy blue. Lyra blinked. A cool breeze swept across her arms; she shivered and hugged herself. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, she saw that the sky above was sprinkled with glittering silver stars.

She heard a loud wingbeat down the driveway to her left—the sound that had awakened her, a shout and quick footsteps, and suddenly someone was next to her, shaking her and jumping up and down and crying out excitedly.

"Lyra! Lyra! Look!" She knew that voice. "Look what I got!"

"E-Ethan?" She blinked again, clearing the fog of drowsiness from her head. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, Ly, who else would it be?" She could practically hear the grin in his voice, permeating the darkness.

"What…?" Lyra blinked again, wondering if she was dreaming. "But your mom said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow!"

"Nah, dad and I decided to come back early. I just _had_ to show you this! What are you doing napping out here, anyway?" he asked, his words rushing at her like a bubbling stream of consciousness.

"Hi, Mr. Gold!" Lyra waved to the man who hopped off the bird Pokemon's back after his son. Ethan's father waved back as he strode up the driveway and disappeared into the Golds' house. She turned back to Ethan. "I dunno, I guess I fell asleep."

"Well, guess what?" Ethan exclaimed joyously. "You've gotta see this, Lyra! Seriously! Check this out!"

He reached into his pocket, and through the dimness, Lyra could barely make out the outline of something small clutched in his hand. Ethan was grinning from ear to ear; she didn't need to see his face clearly to know that.

He was even happier than usual! Curious, she unfolded her legs, placing Teddiursa on the bench next to her.

She let out a small yelp of surprise as he flung the object into the air. A flash of light illuminated his face, and he took a step back as something small and round emerged out of seemingly nowhere and alighted on the grass with a bounce an overjoyed squeal.

"Marill, _Marill!_"

As Ethan beamed at the little Pokemon jumping around before them, Lyra stood slowly, speechless. It couldn't be! "Oh—oh my gosh, Ethan—is that—did you—is that _your own Pokemon_?"

"Yup!" Ethan leaned down and picked up the Marill. It wiggled happily in his arms. The boy chuckled as its tail brushed along his arm, tickling him. "Stop it, Marill!"

He turned to his friend, peering around the Pokemon's large blue ears. "My uncle gave it to me when we got there! It turns out that was his big surprise and why he asked us to visit. It was a late birthday present!" He beamed, and Lyra couldn't help but to smile with him. She had never seen him so happy.

"Gee, Ethan…wow, I'm so happy for you!" Lyra skipped forward and hugged him, being careful to avoid squishing the Marill. "This is great!"

"Thanks, Ly! I know, I'm really happy! I've always really liked Marills, too—I guess Uncle Jeff knew that!" Ethan returned the hug and stepped back, letting Marill dance around in his grip. He looked Lyra in the eyes and smiled. "Now we just have to wait for you to get your Pokemon."

If only. "Oh, yeah!" Lyra blurted, remembering. "I almost caught a Scyther this afternoon…" Ethan's eyes widened with surprise as she rehashed the story for him.

"—but then Kris came along and took the Poke Ball and scared the Scyther away, of course," she finished grimly.

Ethan laughed, rolling his eyes. "Ah, Kris. She would do that." He frowned. "But that's really too bad."

Lyra couldn't help but to smile, the grin stretching across her face before she could stop it. Suddenly, it _didn't_ seem so bad after all. Ethan always knew how to make light of every situation. And…and he believed her…she knew he would…

"That's great, though, Lyra!" he continued. "You found a Scyther, and almost caught it! Geez, that's not bad at all!" He leaned forward and lowered his voice, his bright eyes darting back and forth. "But just make sure you don't tell my dad about that," he whispered. "I found that spare Poke Ball in his desk. He probably wouldn't be happy…although now that I have my own Pokemon, I doubt he would mind as much…" Lyra giggled.

"Oh, and one more thing." Ethan set Marill down on the bench, where the Pokemon poked curiously at the stuffed Teddiursa, and reached into his shoulder bag, rummaging about inside. "I have something for you."

With a flourish, he whipped out something round, white, and puffy, and held it out toward Lyra. "I thought you might like this."

Lyra tilted her head curiously and took the object in her hands. It was fluffy and distinctly rounded at the top, with a rim around which a bright red bow was wrapped.

She turned it over, and it suddenly dawned upon her—it was a_ hat_.

Ethan had bought her a hat as a souvenir from Goldenrod City. A hat, like the one she had always wanted, like the one she had decided to wear for her Pokemon journey, like the one she had wished for earlier that very same day.

Tentatively, she reached up and fitted it on her head, pulling it over her chestnut bangs. She glanced up at Ethan's open, expectant face.

"It's perfect, Ethan." She smiled. "Thank you."

"I thought you might like it," he answered with a grin, turning his own black-and-gold cap backwards on his head. "Now we match."

"Kind of." Lyra stuck her tongue out at him.

"Ethan!" She heard Mr. Gold's voice calling from the door as he peered outside. He beckoned toward his son. "Bedtime! It's been a long day, you should get some sleep." He waved. "You too, Lyra!"

"Okay, coming, dad!" Ethan hollered back. He turned back to Lyra and gave her hat a playful poke. "I'll see you tomorrow, then, Ly."

"See ya," Lyra agreed. "Thanks again!"

"Goodnight, Lyra!"

"Goodnight!"

As Ethan disappeared into his house, his new Marill bouncing after him, Lyra couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face like warm honey. Glancing back one more time at the beautiful night sky, she picked Teddiursa up from the bench, and, cradling him in her arms, opened the door to her own house. It was good know that she had Ethan, that her best friend could always cheer her up. The rest would come in time.


	2. Surprise, Surprise

**Chapter Two: Surprise, Surprise**

"_Well, I'd better get going, then," Kris declared with her trademark grin._

_ Chikorita in arm, she reached forward and tapped Lyra on the hat. "I'll see you later then, Ly-Ly." Her Pokemon waved its leaf back and forth and let out a small cry, filling the air with a sweet, flowery scent. Lyra leaned back against the tree trunk and breathed in the aroma. She nodded toward the older girl._

_ "Bye, Kris…good luck on your journey!"_

_ "Luck is for beginners." Kris winked. "I won't need it."_

_ There was something strange in her eyes, Lyra thought, as she turned toward Ethan and patted him on the head. "See you later, Ethan…"_

_ "Bye, Kris." Ethan crossed his arms and flicked a lock of black hair out of his eyes. Kris took a step away, turning over her shoulder._

_ Slinging her pink bag over her shoulder, she waved to her parents, to Professor Elm, to her two childhood friends, and to all of a New Bark Town. It figured that Kris would have an entire assembly watch her leave, Lyra thought with an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. They might as well have been applauding for all the heroic feel it gave the girl's departure._

_ "See you all later!" Kris exclaimed, waving. Shouts of goodbye echoed from the crowd as she mouted her bike with one deft jump and cruised away, her sleek form disappearing into the distance of Route 29._

_ "She's gonna go far, that one," Lyra heard her own mother remark over her right ear, wiping the corner of her eye._

Will I ever be asked?_ Lyra wondered to herself. _Will I ever get my own Pokemon?_ She squeezed her fist shut and held it over her heart. _Will I ever get to go on an adventure like that?

-.-.-

It had been two years ago, the day they watched Kris open the door from Professor Elm's lab, a cute, adoring Chikorita cradled in her arms. It sniffed at its new trainer and wriggled in her grasp, delighted.

"What are you looking at?" she had teased Lyra, tugging at one of the girl's brown pigtails.

Kris had run up to Ethan and let Chikorita jump out of her arms and scamper all over the boy's arms and torso. They had all been twelve, Lyra remembered, and it had been autumn. The air was thick with the scent of sap, lining the rough bark of the trees, and lining Ethan's red jacket now, as Lyra watched him writhing on the ground, chuckling as the grass Pokemon's leaf tickled him.

"Chika!" it cried happily. "Chika!"

"Kris! Call her off, Kris!" Ethan gasped between loud peals of laughter. Marill had joined in the tussle, hopping on her trainer's body and knocking him over. "Stop it, both of you!"

"Kris, stop bothering Ethan," Kris's mom had finally chided over her newspaper from their porch, a hint of laughter in her voice. Resigned, Kris had finally called off her Pokemon, as Ethan sat up, quivering, now covered in orange leaves.

"Here." Kris plucked a leaf from his forehead and brushed aside a piece of his black hair. "Let me get that."

Lyra cleared her throat, feeling awkward, as Ethan ducked his head in surprise and turned a faint shade of pink.

"Kris, honey, you need to start packing for your journey, remember," Kris's mom piped up again, breaking through the awkward silence that ensued. "Your bag's up in your room. I put it there for you."

Kris stood up and rolled her eyes. "Right. I forgot about that. Thanks, mom."

She turned and gave Ethan one last stroke on the nose with the leaf in her hand and then flounced away. Lyra heard her pounding footsteps up the stairs as she emerged from behind the tree and walked over to Ethan. He was still trembling with leftover laughter, as he uncurled his body and peered up at her with half-squinted eyes.

"Hand?"

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Ethan, you're so lazy." She held out her hand, and her friend took it and pulled himself to his feet.

"I guess Kris wasn't kidding when she said her parents promised her with a starter at twelve," Ethan remarked, adjusting his red jacket.

"Guess not," Lyra agreed.

It was only half an hour later that Kris re-emerged from her house, bag in hand, yellow cap fastened firmly on her head. Her Chikorita trailed behind her, nipping at her heels, and she proudly flung her blue pigtails over her shoulder and announced, "Okay, mom, I'm ready."

And that had been it, Lyra remembered. Two years. In two years, she had only seen Kris once, when she revisited New Bark Town before taking on the Elite Four merely a week ago. She had gone far, indeed. Probably the greatest fourteen-year-old in all of Johto. Fifteen now, actually.

Lyra set down the book on her desk and sighed. She couldn't really concentrate on anything right then, not on reading or studying or even talking to another human being. Not even watching TV downstairs with mom yet again, or talking to dad on the phone to ask about how his business trip in Sinnoh was going.

The one question was nagging at her: how had Kris gotten so far in so short an amount of time? She really was the Chosen One, the destined hero. It was no use fighting it. Even Ethan couldn't cheer her up at the moment. Her mind spun, full of the memories of that day a week ago.

"Oh, I'm just picking something up from Professor Elm," Kris had told her nonchalantly when they had run into each other last Monday, Lyra's eyes widening in shock as she uttered a stunned whisper of "_Kris?_"

Kris had waved her hand in casual greeting, as if the meeting happened every day and seeing each other so often was starting to bore her. She looked the same as she always had—still much taller and much more imposing than Lyra.

"It's really nothing," she said. "Just wanted to drop by and visit my old friends before tackling the Elite Four. Kanto's supposed to be really pretty, you know. Just over the river. Nice mountains and such." Kris waved a camera at her. "I'll be taking lots of pictures, that's for sure!"

"E-Elite Four?" Lyra was still stuck on those words. "But Kris, you—you—you what?" She swallowed, remembering that she hadn't yet given her old friend a proper greeting. "I mean, er, it's—it's nice to see you! I…I…" She wanted to smack herself. What was wrong with her tongue, or, for that matter, her brain?

"Yes, yes, you too," Kris tossed out absentmindedly. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I really do have to be moving on soon. Places to go, people to meet, tra-la-la!"

_Did Kris really just say "tra-la-la" in a regular conversation?_

"Oh, and by the way, how's my boy Ethan?" Kris asked, her eyes focusing again on Lyra, glimmering with sudden warmth.

"Er—he's fine," Lyra answered awkwardly. _"My boy Ethan"? What?_ "I'm sure he'll be…glad to see you…?"

"Great! Great, wonderful, just fantastic. Bye, Ly! It was nice chatting—!" Camera dangling from her wrist, Kris swept by her like a breeze before the last note of her voice even fell. Her bag slapped Lyra in the chin. Perplexed, she stared after the older girl, rubbing the spot on her skin where it had hit.

Barely ten minutes later, Lyra heard a knock on her door. She opened it to find an equally puzzled-looking Ethan standing on her doorstep, scratching his head.

"What was that?" he asked, frowning.

Lyra shrugged. "I have no clue."

It seemed that as soon as she had a word with the professor, Kris had left as quickly and suddenly as she had dropped in. But her words—_Elite Four_—still lingered in Lyra's mind now, keeping her from focusing on her work and filling her stomach with a peculiar longing she was far from comfortable with. It was a longing she thought had disappeared two years ago when she had been one of the people in that crowd to watch her childhood friend leave for her great adventure.

Giving up her hopes of doing anything productive that afternoon, she rose from her chair and wandered downstairs, glancing absentmindedly at the TV and mumbling a halfhearted "hello" to her mom. Lyra opened the door and stepped outside. She knew exactly where she was going.

To the east, the river gleamed in the sunlight, its waves rippling calmly in shades of blue and gold. Lyra had never paid it much heed, but now the sight of it made her stomach churn as she strode up the path and gazed across, trying to catch a glimpse of the other side.

But there was no other side in view—at least not for her. It was the passageway into Kanto, the passageway across which Kris trailed her blossoming clouds of glory, her now-Meganium in tow. The passageway to Victory Road and the Elite Four, and to becoming the Champion. Kris's passageway.

Lyra swallowed. After all her dreams, all her secret fantasies and imagination, it was no use. Kris was two years ahead; she would reach her goal first, faster and greater than _any_ girl ever had before, and she would get there heroically and fashionably, just as she always did.

It was about time for her to face the truth. Lyra had started out a small town girl from New Bark Town, and she would remain a small town girl from New Bark Town.

She sighed. Why did those words feel like a bucket of cold water splashed over her head? Why did they make her stomach curdle and her chest ache? Ethan was satisfied with simply being Professor Elm's assistant—and someday, perhaps, being a Pokemon researcher—why couldn't she be as well?

She lowered herself to the ground, folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. As she listened to the gentle lapping of the water against the side of the river, she ran her fingers along the length of her stockings—they were new, with none of the rips or tears that littered her other pairs, as she wore them almost every day. The wind threatened to blow her hat off; she held it in place, tugging on the rim, remembering the night that Ethan had given it to her.

"Lyra! Lyra, honey!"

Lyra turned to see her mother running up to her. "Lyra! Professor Elm called! He wants to see you."

"Professor Elm?" Lyra turned, standing up. "How come?"

"He didn't say," her mom replied. "He'll be in his lab, though. Just go find him there, dear."

Lyra nodded, dusting her hands off. "Okay, mom."

_No, no, it can't be what you're thinking…_ Lyra shook her head and scoffed at her own thoughts as she paced back toward town, jamming her hands in her pockets. _He probably just wants you to help him with some kind of experiment. Or ask you a question about Ethan. It can't be…_

Either way, it didn't matter, she told herself—she loved the Pokemon lab, loved all the research equipment and the eggs she could see locked away in one of the incubation chambers, and sometimes even a Pokemon or two that Elm was studying at the moment. It didn't matter, she told herself firmly, walking toward the building. Really, it didn't.

Lyra stopped in her tracks as she spotted something peculiar—a flash of dark red, jutting out from behind the lab.

She rounded the corner, surprised as her eyes confronted the sight of a young boy her age, pressed against the wall of the building. The red she had seen belonged to the stiff hair that streaked down to his shoulders, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He was dressed in light blue pants and a red-rimmed navy blue jacket whose harsh collar framed his thin neck and accentuated all the sharp angles of his body, from his chin, to his elbows, to his knees.

_He doesn't look like he's from around here…_ Lyra mused, biting her lip.

The boy was leaning over, his eye pressed intently to a window on the side of the building, his jaw set firmly as he peered inside. One hand was cupped around his face, the other hung at his side, clenched in a tight fist.

_He looks really stressed out,_ Lyra observed.

She stepped forward, clearing her throat. "Um…can I help you?" she asked nervously.

The boy flinched as if she had slapped him across his bony cheek and jerked his arm back as he turned to face her, his eyes wide and piecing. "What are you staring at?" he snapped.

"Nothing, I was just wondering if—" Lyra shrank back. _Sheesh. _"Never mind. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

He glared at her with steely silver eyes. "Well, I don't need your help. Go away."

"Er…okay, I'm sorry…" Gulping, Lyra backed away slowly from the cold, glowering boy. He turned back to the window, narrowing his eyes and ignoring her presence, as if she had never been there.

_What in Arceus's name was that?_ she wondered as she pushed open the door and stepped inside in the lab.

-.-.-

"Lyra! Good afternoon!" Professor Elm exclaimed as she walked past the rows of metal incubators and storage devices to his table at the back of the room. The professor was bent over the table, organizing a stack of papers that she was sure would have reached up to her knees had they been placed on the ground. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good, how are you, Professor?"

"I'm fine, just fine, thanks," he replied absentmindedly, hoisting the papers in his arms and dropping them down at the corner of the desk with a noise that echoed through the metallic room. Exhaling, he turned and wiped his balding forehead on the sleeve of his lab coat. "Whew. This place should really get cleaned more often. Your friend Ethan really helps out, you know."

"Ethan's a nice kid," Lyra agreed.

"Yes, yes, he is." The professor nodded adamantly. "There should really be more kids like him out there…" He adjusted his crooked glasses as his voice trailed off. "Anyhow, that's not what I called you here for, is it, Lyra?"

"What is it, Professor?" Lyra swallowed, waiting. _Don't get your hopes up,_ she scolded herself. _Don't get your hopes up…_

"Have you heard the most recent news about Kris?" Elm asked curiously.

"Kris?" Lyra's heart sank. Had he called her in to chat some more about the town hero? "N-no, I don't think I have. Has she beaten the Elite Four yet?" _Of course she has_, she finished silently.

"Oh, no, no, I'm afraid not!" Elm's eyes widened as he spoke, waving his hands.

"What?"Lyra almost jumped. _She hasn't?_

"From what I saw on television, she beat Will, and then Koga—stunning victories, both of them, mind you, from what I heard—but she fell to Bruno's strong fighting Pokemon," Elm rehashed breathlessly. "I think she'll be taking a break to train some more. She said in the interview that the rest of the Elite Four would be too strong for her if she couldn't take Bruno down."

"W-wait, what?" Lyra gasped. She had missed Kris's interview on TV? When had it aired—just now, when she had been at the river? Why hadn't her mom called her inside? And more importantly—"Kris…_lost_?"

Elm lowered his head and closed his eyes in defeat. "I'm afraid she did. What a loss. We were all rooting so hard for her, too. But no worries, my dear, she'll be back at it soon, stronger than ever."

Lyra gulped; her stomach was swirling with an uncomfortable mass of mixed emotions. Kris—confident, irrepressible, invincible Kris—had actually _lost_ a Pokemon battle. It was unbelievable. For two years, and even longer before that, she had been hearing of nothing but the girl's natural talents at training Pokemon and her lightning-quick rise through the Gym challenge and the Johto League. She was sure to be the next Champion, everyone knew…

Of course, it wasn't like losses to the Elite Four were uncommon at all—they were Elite for a reason—but Kris had been on such a streak that Lyra had expected her to win with no trouble at all. She took a deep breath, her mind racing. She couldn't deny the existence of the small—very small—part inside her that breathed a sigh of relief and rejoiced at her old rival's loss, but the rest of her really, wholly did feel sorry for Kris, and disappointed that the hero from New Bark hadn't succeeded immediately. After all, they had grown up together.

"Of course she will!" she agreed aloud. "If anyone can do it, it's Kris."

"Yes, that's the spirit!" Elm exclaimed, a smile breaking across his face. He pushed up his glasses again. "But you see, Lyra…why I called you here today…I would have given this job to Kris, after she became Champion and came back home to celebrate with us…I'm sure she would have settled down peacefully and had plenty of time on her hands to do things like this and help out her old professor…" He shook his head fretfully. "But the girl is so busy training now to take on her next challenge, she would hardly have the time."

Elm paused, fiddling with his thumbs. "I considered Ethan next, but in all honesty, I don't think the boy has any wish to journey. He's so happy in this town. And he already helps out so much around the lab." The professor looked up at her. "So…Lyra, I thought _you_ might have an interest." He smiled hopefully at her and wrung his hands together.

"An interest—in what exactly, Professor?" Lyra leaned forward anxiously.

"Well, Lyra, my friend Mr. Pokemon came by this morning, raving about one of his new discoveries, as usual. You might know him, Ethan often runs errands for him." Lyra nodded; she had heard about this guy, a peculiar researcher and definite Pokemaniac. "This time, he brought us something he called a 'Mystery Egg.'"

"A Mystery Egg?"

Elm sighed. "Yes. I'm not certain why he's so fixated on this Egg…I mean, it's only an Egg, after all." He adjusted his glasses. "Anyhow, he seemed really adamant on this one, so I just took him up on the offer. There must be something special about it if he's so concerned."

The professor glanced to the side, his face falling. "I was hoping Kris could help me to raise it with her usual care and talent, but…" He waved his hand, dismissing the thought. "Anyhow. It's no matter." He raised his head to meet Lyra's eyes. "Lyra. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of caring for this Egg?"

"Me?" So that was what he had called her in for. _But why me? I don't have any experience with Pokemon…_ "Well, I'm h-honored, Professor, but…how?" Lyra swallowed. "How would I care for it?"

"Ah, yes, and that brings us to the next point!" Elm beamed. He turned over his shoulder and gestured at a peculiar tall, hexagonal device resting against the wall. "Do you see those Poke Balls over there?"

Lyra counted them. One, two. Two gleaming red-and-white Poke Balls.

"That was the device from which Kris took her first Pokemon two years ago and began her journey," Elm announced. "A Chikorita."

Lyra nodded, remembering all too clearly. That would explain the empty slot in the metal that formed a triangle with the other two. But why was Elm showing the Poke Balls to her? Where was he going with this?

"We may keep them in incubators all around here, which hatches them just fine, but really, Pokemon Eggs are best raised when they are walked with and brought outside with a loving, caring trainer to look after them," Elm explained. "And that, Lyra, is why I didn't ask Ethan—I doubt he would want to travel around. But you…" Elm paused. "I thought you might be interested in starting your Pokemon journey, Lyra."

The words didn't sink in for a moment. Lyra blinked. _Did he really just say what I think…?_

"You can choose from one of those Poke Balls over there." Elm pointed at the device. He smiled at her momentary confusion. "I thought that if you were to help me raise this Egg by walking around with it, you should have your own Pokemon—and maybe you could even take the Gym challenge, if you're interested."

_If?_

"Of course I am!" Lyra squeaked, finding her voice. She cleared her throat. "I mean—yes! Wow, thank you, Professor! Thank you so much! I'd love to!" _It's only been my lifelong dream…_

She could hardly believe her luck. Just when she had been gazing sadly over the river, prepared to give up all hopes of ever being given a chance to prove herself and embark on her own adventure… The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

"No, thank _you_ for helping raise this Egg, Lyra," Elm returned warmly.

Her head still spinning with excitement, Lyra made her way over to the device that held the two remaining Poke Balls. She peered down at them.

_Cyndaquil and Totodile. Hmm…_

Vaguely, she remembered learning about fire types in school, and seeing the picture of the cute little fire mouse, curled up in a ball, its snout pointed toward the ground, flames flaring up from its back.

_Cyndaquil is cute._ Lyra nodded to herself.

"I'll take this one," she declared, pointing at the Poke Ball on the right.

"A Cyndaquil?" Elm nodded. "Good choice, Lyra." He stepped forward and pressed his finger to the button at the front of the Poke Ball.

A flash of light exploded from the open Poke Ball. Lyra covered her eyes. When she opened them again, she heard a trill and turned her gaze downward, where the dark green mouselike Pokemon was crouched next to her foot, sniffing at it.

"Cynda," it squeaked. "Quil quil!"

"It's adorable!" she exclaimed, bending down to pet the Cyndaquil's head.

"_Cyndaquil!_"

"Ahhh!" Lyra screeched in alarm and yanked her arm back just in time as a jet of flame shot up from the Pokemon's back, surrounding her skin with searing heat. The Cyndaquil tensed its body, curling its small arms into its furry stomach, trembling, as its trainer gaped in dismay at her barely salvaged hand and her new Pokemon.

"Careful, Lyra." Elm shook his head. "Cyndaquil are very shy Pokemon. It may not trust you right away, and it will light up its back to protect itself at first. However, like all fire types, when it comes to trust you, it will prove a fearsome and loyal companion."

Lyra glanced at her barely-charred fingertips and down again at the frightened Cyndaquil. She furrowed her brow. _Maybe training is harder than it looks…_

"Okay," she murmured, still shaken. "I guess I'll be careful…"

Elm nodded. "It's a good idea, at least at first. I'm sure it—she, actually, she's female—will come to trust you soon, though. In fact, you should try keeping her out of her Poke Ball—walking with your Pokemon will make it more friendly toward you. Now"—he turned back toward his desk—"do you need some bandages for that?"

"No, I think I'm okay," Lyra answered. The flame had barely licked the tips of her fingernails. "Thanks, though. It barely got me."

"That's good. Be careful, though," Elm warned again. He set down the box of bandages and swiveled around to face her. "Now, let's talk about the Gym challenge, Lyra. I'm going to warn you, it's not exactly a cakewalk. You can at least challenge the Violet City Gym, though, and go from there. But like I said, it isn't going to be easy."

She could almost hear the words underlying his earnest expression: _not everyone is as talented as Kris…_

"There are a few things that might help you—I would go talk to your mother and tell her you're leaving, of course. Also, you can take this."

Lyra looked up in surprise as Professor Elm placed a shiny device in her hands. It was silver, with a flap that opened to reveal a small screen.

"This is Professor Oak's genius invention—the Pokedex." Elm smiled as Lyra's face lit up. "Yes, it's for you. Kris already took the pink one, I'm afraid." He cleared his throat in an attempt to sound official. "The Pokedex is quite essential for a young trainer's journey; it will automatically fill with data of Pokemon you've seen or caught, which helps both you and me, as it is a crucial part of my research…well, Oak's research, actually…" His eyes shone as he beheld the device. "Professor Oak…that man really is a genius…" Elm blinked and turned back to Lyra. "Please do try to fill up the Pokedex as best you can; Professor Oak counts on young people like you to help him."

Lyra nodded. "I will, Professor. Thank you!"

She ran her fingers over the Pokedex's smooth surface. _Now I'm a real 'dex holder._ She felt so professional, with a Pokedex in hand and a starter Pokemon following behind her.

"Thank _you_, Lyra. And now—the egg."

Lyra heard a mechanical whirring noise emanating from the corner as Professor Elm leaned over and unlocked the door to one of the incubation chambers—a small one, tucked away underneath his desk. He resurfaced clutching a white egg a little smaller than the size of his head, covered with sparse, triangular red and blue markings.

"Here it is." Elm stepped forward and set it gently on the table before them. Lyra tucked the Pokedex in the pocket of her denim corduroys and picked it up, cradling it in her arms. It was rather light, and warm to the touch, and she swore she could feel a tiny, tiny pulse emanating from within its smooth outer shell.

"I'll take good care of it," Lyra promised, patting its surface gently.

As she thanked the professor again and began to walk toward the doorway, glancing behind her, she was surprised to see the Cyndaquil shake herself off and then obediently trot after her.

"Hey," Lyra said with a smile. "Sorry about earlier."

"Cynda." The Pokemon trembled and tensed up her nose, but she seemed to accept Lyra's apology.

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all_, Lyra mused happily as she opened the door and stepped outside. As she headed back toward her house, she cast a casual last look toward the side of the lab.

The red-haired boy was gone.

Lyra frowned, puzzled. That weird, rude kid must have left. Who knew what he was doing there, anyway? Maybe waiting for someone. But why was he staring into the lab…? Was he that curious? Or maybe he was poor and in need of a home, or people, or a Pokemon?

_Whatever. It doesn't matter._ Lyra shrugged it off. It had nothing to do with her.

Now she just had to tell her parents, and Ethan, and all the inhabitants of New Bark Town, that they were going to have a second adventurer.

Lyra grimaced. They were sure to be surprised.


	3. Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

**Chapter Three: Where There's Smoke, There's Fire**

"You're leaving on a Pokemon adventure?"

Lyra couldn't help but to feel a little offended by the look of shock on her mom's face. She raised a hand defensively to her cheek. "Well…I'm surprised, too, mom…but yeah. Professor Elm gave me a Pokemon."

She turned over her shoulder, where Cyndaquil had settled into one of the cushions on the couch, her dark green fur contrasting with the pale leather. Her nose pushed at the fabric, sniffing it curiously.

"I can see that…and Lyra, it's adorable, but…" Her mom tilted her head, looking puzzled. "Lyra, I just never thought you would be the kind of girl to be adventuring all around Johto."

Lyra's heart sank. _No one did._ Try as she might, she couldn't stop the bitter-edged thoughts from seeping through the walls of her mind. _You were all too focused on Kris, naturally…_

Her mom continued, "I always just thought you would settle down here in New Bark Town with Ethan—"

"Mom!" Lyra slammed a hand over her mouth, mortified.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like _that!_" her mom blurted. Her eyes darted shiftily to the side. "Well, maybe that would be nice, too…but I meant, you know, just staying here at home like him! A good old New Bark Town girl! Maybe becoming a Pokemon researcher with the professor or a getting involved in business like your dad, and working a simple job at a Poke Mart for your teenage years…you know, like Ethan. Yes, that's what I meant to say." Lyra's mom nodded firmly, setting her hands in her lap.

"Sure, mom, sure." Lyra buried her face in her palm with a sigh. "Of course that's what you meant."

"Hey, don't get all mad at me for thinking of my daughter's future, now," her mom countered defensively, holding up her hands. "Ethan is such a nice boy! He would—"

"Mom! This isn't what we're talking about right now!"

"Okay, okay!" Lyra's mom shook her head and recomposed herself, lowering her voice. "I just never thought of you as the type of girl to be hiking all over Johto, you know, challenging Gyms or trying to become Champion or anything like that…"

"And why not?" Lyra retorted.

Her mother faltered, biting her lip, as a shadow of guilt flickered momentarily across her face. "I—I don't know, honey, I just never thought so…you were always so different from Kris, and she—"

Lyra coughed softly. "Why does that matter?" she interrupted, her voice low. _Why does everyone expect me to have to have the same personality as Kris to succeed…?_

"I-it doesn't, dear, you're right…"

Her mother gazed up with caring eyes at her daughter now, brown eyes that mirrored hers, and took her hands in her own. "Please don't get me wrong, sweetheart. I'm very happy for you. I'm very happy that Professor Elm chose you for the task of taking care of his Egg and gave you a Pokemon." She paused, licking her lips nervously. "It's just…do you really think you're ready for this journey?"

Lyra nodded without a moment's hesitation. "Mom, listen…I've been dreaming of it all my life."

_But only Ethan ever knew it. Only he bothered to notice…_

"Well…okay, honey," her mom murmured now, blinking her liquid eyes. "If this is your dream, what kind of mother would I be to stop you from pursuing it?" A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"…Thanks, mom." Lyra leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her mother. "This means a lot to me."

"I can tell. Just make sure you call your dad about it, okay, sweetheart?"

"I will."

Lyra's father left her with his usual cheerful sentiments when she rang him up on the Pokegear after her mother proudly handed the pink device her. It glistened, fresh from the repair shop and completely fixed since the last time Ethan had stepped on it.

"That's my girl!" he had exclaimed in his hearty voice when she dialed his number. "You can do it!"

Lyra smiled and rolled her eyes, grateful that for once the four-letter K-word hadn't come up at the mention of Gyms and Champions. Her father hadn't been around in a while; he probably barely even remembered her old friend.

"Thanks, dad. Hey, how's Sinnoh, by the way?"

"Beautiful," he had answered. "Colder than Johto, yes, but I'm loving the snow. An unusual sight around our parts." Lyra nodded, though he couldn't see her. "I just got out of a meeting with the Gym leaders earlier today, honey."

"Gym leaders?"

"Yep. Mostly Roark. The business around the Oreburgh mine is booming recently. That's what I'm here for, honey."

"I know, dad."

"Hey, Ly, you should pop by and challenge these guys after you become Champion of Johto," her dad quipped. "I'm sure you'll be more than enough to handle them. None of them looked _nearly_ as tough as my little Lyra, that's for sure."

"Dad, stop it!" Lyra laughed, embarrassed. "Besides, I wouldn't bet on becoming Champion—that's aiming a little high, don't you think?"

"Pffft," her dad scoffed. "If anyone can do it, my Lyra can."

Lyra smiled. It was nice to hear those words.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I gotta run, honey," he said. "Another meeting at three. It was great hearing your voice, though. I'm so glad to hear about your new Pokemon, Lyra! Good luck on your journey; make sure you call up your old man from time to time, and check in with your mom! Go kick some butt out there!"

"I'll try. Thanks, dad!"

"Love you, honey."

"Love you too!" _Click._

Grinning, Lyra tucked the Pokegear into her yellow bag and stood up to face her mom. She had never thought she would have a chance to say those words, but—"Mom, I think I'm ready to go."

-.-.-

Before she immediately raced out the door to begin her adventure—which Lyra was very tempted to do—her mother insisted that she sit down at the table and eat a last hearty lunch. She even set aside a bowl of food for Cyndaquil, who sat tensely beside Lyra, picking at the mound of spaghetti, before running off to busy herself preparing things for her daughter in the living room as Lyra and her Pokemon ate in silence.

"Hey, er…do you not like spaghetti?" Lyra asked her Pokemon tentatively after a few minutes, her fork hovering in midair.

Cyndaquil froze, examining her trainer with squinted eyes. Finally, after a moment, she wrinkled her nose. "Cynda-cynda quil quil, quil Cynda Cyndaquil," she explained, pushing at the tablecloth with her snout.

Lyra studied her Pokemon carefully, trying to read her tiny expressions. "So you don't like it?"

"Cynda!" Cyndaquil shook her head indignantly and fidgeted in her seat. _That wasn't it._

Lyra furrowed her brow. Another task to add to a trainer's checklist: deciphering her Pokemon's emotions and meanings.

"Hmm…let's see…" She stroked her chin. "You like spaghetti, but…you don't feel comfortable enough to eat it with me?" she guessed.

"Queel…" Embarrassed, Cyndaquil turned away, tucking her snout into her shoulder.

Second try. Not bad.

"Hey, it's okay." Lyra set her fork down on her plate and leaned toward her Pokemon. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it. Friendship, uh, friendship doesn't just build over an hour, I know that," she offered. "I understand. It's harder than that. I have my own trust issues, too, so I get what it's like. Um…" Lyra coughed, realizing that she was starting to ramble. "And I…um…never mind."

She felt a nudge at her side. "Cynda?"

Cyndaquil had climbed over her chair to perch at its edge, stretching her nose toward Lyra and lifting her small legs. The girl stopped, surprised. Had her awkward little speech really managed to move her Pokemon?

Or maybe she just had sauce on her overalls. Lyra sighed and turned back to her meal, picking up her fork again as Cyndaquil carefully licked at the small red patch on the denim. At least her Pokemon wasn't afraid to go near her anymore. It was an improvement…

_I thought trainers and their Pokemon just…bonded,_ she admitted to herself as she lifted a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. _Like…_ She hated herself for the thought. _Like Kris's did. Look at that Chikorita and how happy it was…those big crimson eyes, staring up at Kris…it even jumped all over Ethan…_

Lyra stopped.

Ethan. That was it!

Ethan had his own Pokemon. He had had Marill for—what was it—nearly six years now? Six years. Six years was a very long time. They had been so young when he had come home that night with his new Pokemon, and with her marshmallow hat in his bag. She fingered the red bow around its rim, now. She had hardly taken it off since…

She shrugged the thought off, refocusing herself. In any case, Ethan was sure to know what to do. He and Marill were so close; she always saw the aqua mouse bouncing after him.

Shoving the last few bundles of pasta into her mouth, she gestured at Cyndaquil. "Come on, Cyndaquil. We're going to go find a friend."

"Cynda?" Cyndaquil's eyes flicked upward in surprise, finding her bowl pushed away from her. She wrinkled her nose. What was going on with her trainer? As Lyra rose, she quickly leaped off the chair after her trainer, not wanting to fall behind.

She stumbled after the brunette as she swept out of the room and nearly ran straight into her mom. Lyra's mom was ready, standing at the doorway with Lyra's yellow bag clutched in her hand. She blinked took a step back in surprise as the girl didn't even stop on her way to the door.

"But honey—where are you going—?"

"I'll be right back, mom! Promise! I'm just going to find Ethan!" Lyra called over her shoulder.

Gazing after her daughter's back, Lyra's mother blinked and set her bag on the couch. She patted down the creases in her apron and smiled secretly to herself. Lyra would discover in time what she meant.

_It will be her hardest goodbye, that's for sure._

-.-.-

Lyra found Ethan perched on an Apricorn tree near the entrance of the woods by his house, the sunlight filtering through the branches and casting a golden halo on his dark hair. Marill was scampering across the branches, sniffing at the Apricorns and occasionally picking one off the tree when it pleased her and carrying it back to her trainer, who took the Apricorn from her grip and grinned his mild grin. Patting her congratulatorily on her round head, Ethan praised her as Marill chirped in happiness.

A smile tugged at the corners of Lyra's mouth as she watched them, the aquamarine blue of Marill's skin bright against Ethan's red hoodie. Pacing toward the tree, she turned toward Cyndaquil.

"This is my best friend, Ethan," she explained as they walked. She tugged at the bottoms of her shorts. "You'll like him…he's nice."

Cyndaquil let out the tiniest of trills of acknowledgement and buried her nose in the scent of grass. She still wasn't sure what she thought of her trainer…small, quiet, pigtailed, with a spring in her gait and always that cheery, dreamy smile plastered across her face. What was the girl thinking? The fire mouse sighed to herself. She simply couldn't figure her out.

Lyra grinned, oblivious to her Pokemon's thoughts. She could hardly wait to see the look on Ethan's face…

"Hey, Ly—" He greeted her with a lazy grin and slight wave of his hand as he noticed her. As his eyes settled on the Pokemon that walked beside her, he froze.

"Lyra—is that…?" Slowly, his mouth spread into a wide grin as he lowered his hand. "Mew, Lyra…what exactly happened to you this morning?"

At the look on her friend's face, Lyra couldn't help but to giggle as Ethan slid down the tree and closed the distance between them in a few quick strides. He bent over to examine her Cyndaquil.

"No way!" he exclaimed. "You went and got a starter from Professor Elm?" He beheld her with shining eyes. "Lyra—this is incredible! But…how did it happen? I didn't know you were getting a Pokemon…you didn't tell me?" He frowned in mock accusation.

"Hey, I didn't, either." Lyra quickly filled him on on the details of the afternoon; her mother calling her from the river, Elm giving her the task of raising the Egg, and finally, her meeting with Cyndaquil. Ethan's eyes glimmered with excitement as he listened.

"Wow, that's awesome, Ly!" He clapped her on the shoulder. "A Mystery Egg…Mew, Elm actually trusts you with that stuff!"

A momentary shadow of hurt seemed to flicker through his eyes, and Lyra felt a stab of guilt as she remembered that Elm had chosen her over Ethan for the task. Strangely enough, the professor had passed over his usual helper for a random girl in town who, before then, had never received any special attention from anyone. It was rather bizarre now that Lyra thought of it, actually.

She had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around her best friend in a soothing hug, smoothing away his worries. _You're much more of a trainer than I ever will be, Ethan…_

However, the feeling and the shadow in his eyes quickly cleared, leaving behind a funny twisting sensation in her stomach and the golden spark of his usual cheer. "Now we both have Pokemon!" he exclaimed.

Emerging from the canopy of leaves with a loud rustle, Marill hopped off the branch after her trainer, eyes curious as she beheld the Cyndaquil crouching timidly in the grass before her.

"Marill?" she whispered, taking a step forward.

"Cyndaquil!" Cyndaquil lashed out, drawing back and glaring at her with beady eyes.

Lyra turned toward her shy Pokemon, remembering the reason she had come in the first place. "Cyndaquil, she only wants to play."

"Quil…" Cyndaquil relaxed, but her eyes were still wary as Marill approached her, the water mouse's mouth open in a small O of surprise.

"Marill mare?"

"Cynda quil quil quil."

"Marill!" Marill jumped, waving her stubby arms excitedly. "Marill Marill!"

"Quil…"

As Lyra and Ethan watched, the reluctant Cyndaquil raised herself to her feet and took a few small steps forward to sit next to Marill. The blue Pokemon bounced excitedly on her tail.

"Marill makes friends so easily," Ethan laughed. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I wonder what they were talking about."

Lyra wrung her hands uncomfortably behind her back, trying to breach the topic. "Hey, Ethan…I was wondering…" Her friend turned. Well, it was now or never. "How long did it take for Marill to…you know…" She paused, searching for the right words. _Trust you? Be your friend?_ "Bond with you?"

Ethan turned back to her, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Ahh. I dunno…" He tucked his hands into the pockets of his black knee-pants. "We kind of became friends from the start. Marill was always really friendly to me. You know, letting me carry her right from the get-go." He shrugged. "She's a pretty outgoing Pokemon."

"I can tell." Lyra nodded. Secretly, her heart sank a few millimeters. "But…" She swallowed. "Cyndaquil…I mean, Kris…when she…you know…" Her ability to form coherent sentences seemed to have left her. Ethan gazed at her expectantly, patiently, waiting for her to go on.

_It's probably nothing,_ she told herself irritably. _Just your stupid insecurities again._

"I just thought, you know…when Kris got her starter…Chikorita seemed really happy to be with her right away," Lyra blurted quickly. "But Cyndaquil is so—well, you can see." She swallowed. "She doesn't seem to want to be…friends…" She averted her eyes, staring at the two Pokemon who were sitting side-by-side in somewhat mutual silence, Cyndaquil's stubborn, Marill's resigned. "Not anytime soon…maybe with Marill, but…"

"Not with you?" Ethan finished gently.

Lyra nodded slightly without meeting his eyes, biting her lip.

"Hey." Ethan slung his arm around her shoulders, and she flinched in surprise at the touch of his warm skin and his warm red hoodie. It was a gesture he hadn't shown her since they had been at most nine or ten, since before Kris left, and she was hardly used to the sensation anymore. "Lyra. First of all. Your Pokemon is a tough cookie. That's good. You want a Pokemon like that. Marill—she's not like that. She's not a battling Pokemon."

He paused, and she waited for him to continue, still adjusting to the feeling of his weight around her shoulders. It made her skin tingle oddly.

_I'm not a touchy-feely person,_ she mused.

"But moreover," Ethan continued, "how long have you known your Pokemon? An hour?" He snorted, the lock of hair over his face flying up in response. "That's nothing. You have a whole journey ahead of you. You'll be lifelong buddies, probably. Best friends. You've got so much time to get to know each other. There's no rush." He grinned a crooked grin at her as she peered at him out of the corner of her eye. "Marill and I may have gotten along at first, but we've gotten so much closer over the years. That'll happen to you, too."

He let out his breath and lowered his arm from her shoulders. Lyra turned in surprise at the sudden loss of warmth. Ethan crossed his arms and kicked at the grass before he spoke.

"Lyra, I know you. I know you like everything to be all nice and friendly at first glance. I know it bothers you when it's not." He let out his breath. "That's why this bothers you, but—don't. Don't let it bother you. You'll be friends in no time at all. Who wouldn't be friends with you?" He grinned jokingly, punching her shoulder.

Lyra rolled her eyes inwardly. Only her best friend, boyish and happy as he was, could get away with these things around her. Only Ethan.

She opened her mouth, unable to stop the urgent question from escaping, like a molten wave of lava that burned at her insides. "But Kris—"

"Kris had a _grass_ type, Lyra," Ethan interrupted with a smirk. "You know, the type that people call the easiest to train?" He rolled his eyes. "You have a tough _fire_ type, my friend. Of course it's going to be different."

_Of course!_ Lyra chided herself for not remembering her basic types as she was drenched in a wave of relief. Of _course_ it would be. Why hadn't she thought of it? Chikorita were sweet, docile, friendly by nature. Cyndaquil—and most fire types—though shy, burned with an inner strength that could be hard to tame at first.

"And—look," Ethan was saying, shaking his head swiftly, as if he knew what else was behind her words. "Look. Don't let Kris get to you. I don't want to hear you ever saying that you're not as good as her, y'hear, Ly? It doesn't matter what the TV says about how far she got in the Elite Four, it doesn't matter how many badges she has or how many freaking regions she's been to. I-it doesn't even matter how pretty she is."

Lyra turned in surprise, her breath catching as she noticed Ethan's cheeks tinged a faint pink, his feet scuffling at the ground, as if kicking up dirt to cover up what had most definitely been a slip of the tongue. Most _definitely_ something he hadn't meant to say.

_Oh, Mew._ She bit the inside of her cheek, turning away in embarrassment.

"What I'm trying to say is—it doesn't matter, Lyra," he uttered quickly. "You'll always be…well, you'll always be my friend. You'll always be the coolest." He punched her again, smiling, the red gone from his cheeks.

"Er…thanks, Ethan." Lyra nodded, truly grateful.

A cool, uncomfortable hollowness had settled over her chest; something, somewhere, felt off. Somehow, she found herself unable to say anything more to let him know exactly how much his words had meant to her.

She shook her head in irritation at herself. It didn't make sense. Her friend had just outdone himself in what had probably been the greatest feat of cheering her up in all their fourteen years—and here she was, sulking and complaining…

_You're delusional, Lyra._

Ethan's voice, softer, more solemn, jolted her out of her thoughts. He regarded her with his golden eyes, a gleam of finality within them, his head tilted slightly.

"Now that you have Cyndaquil, though…it means you're leaving, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Lyra nodded.

Ethan smiled gently. "That's terrific. Just like you always wanted, Ly."

_Only you, Ethan._

Their eyes locked with an unspoken recognition of the years they had spent together as best friends, the years Ethan knew Lyra had waited, and of all the things he and no one else had known about her. She smiled, remembering.

There wasn't much she could say in the moment to commemorate the occasion—she could only reach out and wrap her arms around Ethan's shoulders in a quick hug, hopefully communicating all the things she couldn't put words to through the gesture. He returned the hug, and she felt the warmth settle over her shoulders again, felt the brush of his hair against her cheek. Ethan smelled kind of nice, Lyra realized, a little like like soft, leafy cotton.

"You should come visit," Ethan teased as they broke apart. "When you're not busy kicking trainers' and Gym leaders' asses, that is." He winked. "I don't expect anything less from ya."

"Ha, I hope so," Lyra chuckled, and this time it was she who lifted her hand to punch him. "I'll miss you, Ethan."

"You too, Ly."

"I'll Fly by to see you when I can, I promise."

"I'll be looking forward to it!"

With one last glance over her shoulder and a wave, Lyra began the trek back toward her house. Cyndaquil shook herself off, clearing the dewdrops from her fur, her steps springing against the grass as she followed after her trainer. The sunlight was glinting off his hair again as Ethan waved back, smiling, and in the shade of the trees she saw the round form of Marill bouncing up and down and waving as well.

_Now there's only mom,_ Lyra thought to herself, swiveling back forward.

Quickening her step, she tried not to remember the look in Ethan's eyes, or the pink in his cheeks, or the faintly sweet scent of his jacket...

Lyra broke into a jog. She didn't want to turn back.


	4. Ghosts of the Past

Author's Note:

Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews :) I'm glad you like this story! I've always loved the HGSS trio with Lyra and Ethan and Silver, they're my favorite, and I feel like there are too many Lyra haters out there! Not that I don't like Kris, too! I personally see Kris as being the more outgoing one, while Lyra seems more shy and dreamy to me.

Anyway, this story was inspired by some really pretty HeartSoulShipping artwork, and one of Lyra and Kris fighting over Ethan. :P I just couldn't resist! Oh, and the song "I'm Only Me When I'm With You" by Taylor Swift. It seems to fit them so well!

Hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Ghosts of the Past<strong>

The lilting, feathery notes of the zither in the corner of the Dance Theatre quivered under ivory fingers and, with a last shake and a rustle, took flight from the strings. Like ghostly birds, they wafted around the the darkened room, breathing a soothing mist into the cracks of the ancient walls.

The atmosphere reeked slightly of smoke and homesickness, though the Theatre itself was clear, save for the faint aroma of incense that lingered in the air. It was calming, haunting, blanketing all of the people who came to the Dance Theatre in a peaceful daze as they settled around the wooden tables and sipped their tea, eager to unwind after a tiring day.

Kris sighed and raised her own teacup to her mouth, inhaling a long sniff of the bitter chamomile and expelling it back into the shell of fragile white china in a cloud of steam. She fingered the intricate patterns of trees and cherry blossoms that lined the cup as her other hand absentmindedly meandered toward the petals of the Meganium crouching next to her and stroked the pink flower.

"Megaaann." The large green Pokemon purred softly, her antennae drooping as she let her body relax, resting part of her weight against her trainer. It had been a long day, and both trainer and Pokemon were exhausted. Meganium's petals were sinking, and Kris's dampened pigtails likewise mirrored the usually bright flower.

She had taken Bruno's advice and trained in the Dragon's Den, the place he had recommended, nearly every day since she had been defeated. Meganium had wrestled off countless dragons until both of them were panting, Kris's voice hoarse from shouting so many commands. Arcanine, Graveler, and Dewgong were spent as well, their foreheads slick with sweat as they had lain on the cave's stone floor.

Kris had wiped her own forehead and, with a determined face, withdrawn all of her Pokemon—excluding Pidgeot, who had let her climb on his feathery back and flown her all the way back to Ecruteak City.

Ecruteak was by far her favorite city. Kris loved the exotic feel in the air, loved the Dance Theatre and the mysterious Kimono Girls who were decked out in their colorful garbs, twirling onstage or bent lovingly over their instruments. Their delicate fingers plucked the withered strings with a fiercity and fragility that startled the young girl; how could these two emotions mix so beautifully?

Battling. Of course. She could express those emotions just as well—in her battling. What was it that Bruno had said?

"Remarkable. I believe in your potential, too, trainer," the fighting type master had declared earnestly after he had defeated her.

Shocked, Kris had raised her trembling arm mutely and closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to look at the collapsed form of her last Pokemon on the ground as she recalled it.

_I lost,_ she stated simply to herself, catching her breath as she tried to comprehend what had happened. _I lost…_

As she grappled with the realization that balanced like a crushing weight on her shoulders, Bruno had faced her with solemn strength in his eyes and reached out with a thick, muscle-bound arm.

"I really mean it," he had proclaimed. "What you have—it's remarkable. You have true strength, and even more importantly, true bonds to your Pokemon."

_Well…I guess I lost._

Kris nodded, puffing out her cheeks in an attempt at bravado. She faintly remembered thanking Bruno.

_This is it, isn't it? I just lost. I…_

"It should not take much to make a trainer like you stronger," he had assured her, kindly, though stoically, in his usual manner. "Perhaps you should train in the Dragon's Den before returning to battle me." He bowed his head. "I look forward to challenging you again."

_What…what will everyone back home think?_

Stunned, her hand drifted down to the Poke Balls fastened around her waist at a painfully slow speed, as if she had been paralyzed by a Thunder Wave. Her mind barely registered the sound of her own footfalls against the tiled floor and the stairs as she descended the floors of the tower.

_Mom, dad, Ethan…what will—what will Ethan think?_

Kris left the building through the ornate entrance. As she paced through the shadows of the golden arches that led up to the Indigo Plateau, all she could picture in her mind was a different kind of gold.

All she could picture, truthfully, was Ethan Gold.

His smiling face, the corners of his mouth drooping, maybe even scowling in disapproval, once he discovered that she had lost…

It was unusual, Kris mused, for something to take over her mind like this. She had always been much more of a doer than a thinker. She never liked it when her own thoughts cluttered her mind, distracting her from her focus, her goal, whatever she was aiming for at the moment.

What she had just done, though, was to _lose_ on her way to this goal.

Kris snorted.

Loss. What a strange, unfamiliar concept.

Much less familiar than that boyish face she'd grown up with…

And strangely enough, that was the image that burned in her mind's eye as the reporters scurried up to her, their cameras and mics at the ready, their loud chatter pressing in on her. Kris composed herself and adjusted her yellow cap as the bright, cocky grin spread across her face. She jauntily answered their eager questions and told them that oh, yes, she was fine with losing, that she had learned from the experience, that she would just train up more and be back any day now. Just like every other day.

It was true. Kris was not giving up. Hell, no. She still completely believed in herself, that much hadn't changed. She would win, because she had always been expected to, because she had always been the best.

But still, it was hard to wipe the image of Ethan's face from her mind.

Kris sighed, resisting the urge to prop her sneakered feet on the table. The other guests surely wouldn't appreciate it. The Dance Theatre was a classy place, full of traditionalists and grandparents and people who had a great appreciation for the arts. There were artists who carried sketchbooks, strange people who chanted and from time to time waved their arms mystically and perched on the edge of their seats, peering up into the bright lights. There were the musicians, their feet tapping and bodies swaying in time to the music.

And, of course, there were a few perverts who only came to leer at the women. Kris made a face at the thought.

It wasn't _only_ people of those walks of life, though—in fact, most of the guests were regular young trainers like her, but they all toned themselves down and polished themselves into young adults once they entered the fancy blue doors of the Theatre. Out of sheer respect for the elegant place, they spoke in indoor voices and calmly sipped their tea around the tables, their eyes occasionally wandering to the stage. Out of sheer respect.

"Meganium, you can have a sip, girl," Kris offered, gesturing toward the cup. Meganium inclined her head in gratefulness. Kris knew her Pokemon would appreciate the herbal scents of the tea. She leaned back, rubbing her sore legs, and her mind wandered again.

Ethan. How was he doing? Kris hadn't seen him in a while, not since she had visited New Bark Town and been given the Master Ball from Professor Elm. It had been a short meeting, both of them a little flustered and surprised. Kris really had had to go, then—but—but what if she had stayed longer?

Now she wished she had…

Kris let out an exasperated puff of air. The kid had managed to pop into her mind yet _again_. Always sneaking in to her thoughts without permission with that innocent grin, as much as she tried to stop him.

She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. Meganium cast her a worried look.

It was stupid, really. Kris had always thought Ethan was cute—yeah, she would admit it, the boy looked good, with his lazy grin and the lock of black hair that always swooped over those bright golden eyes…

Yup. Ethan Gold was attractive, that much she could admit.

She hadn't minded flirting with him a little back when they had lived in the same town. Harmless flirting, all of it. It had been going on for years, really, if she thought about it. Ever since they had hit puberty. He was just a cute boy, that was all. And she sure loved to see him blush…

_Why does he have to spend so much time with that girl, though?_ a small, annoying voice in her head piped up.

Psh. So whiny, Kris scoffed, waving her hand.

_Lyra…you know they've always been closer…_

_Will you shut up?_ Kris snapped back, scowling into the bottom of the cup at the bits of tea leaves that swirled around in the golden liquid—Gold, Gold again. _Lyra's…Lyra's little. She's always been a tag-along, you know that. Always a little wannabe…she's never had any strength of her own._

_She's still my friend, though,_ Kris reminded herself, feeling an uncomfortable stab of guilt. _I shouldn't be thinking these things…_

She swallowed, feeling terribly mean. Kris really did like Lyra, seriously, no matter how she acted or what she said. How was the girl doing back at home, anyway?

Sudden applause erupted around her, dragging her from her mutinous thoughts. Kris glanced up, her eyes flicking toward the stage, and saw the five Kimono Girls take a graceful bow, the sheen of the fabric of their kimonos reflecting the spotlights as they spun and twirled and bowed again. Smiling mysteriously, the five women linked arms and strolled off the stage in a perfectly smooth line, almost as if they were gliding.

Kris clapped, joining the applause, as the women took a seat at the next table. She could hear the rustling of the expensive cloth they wore as they sat down primly, folding their hands in their laps.

She turned back to her tea and finished it with one last sip, setting it on the table with a soft clang. Kris sighed and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

"What am I going to do, Meganium?" she asked, turning helplessly toward her Pokemon.

"Megyah?" Meganium's topaz eyes were wide with concern. _What do you mean?_

"I…I'll admit it." Kris crossed her arms. "I like Ethan. Okay?" She scowled and buried her face in her arms. "Maybe a lot. Okay, fine, I've liked him for a while. I thought it was just flirting, but—" She shrugged. "Whatever."

"Gaahn." Meganium smiled, nudging her trainer's shoulder with her nose. Kris turned and patted her Pokemon softly on her long neck.

"You're the best, you know that, Meganium?"

"Gayhn." _And you are too._

Kris let out her breath and smirked. "Hey, I think I have a decent chance," she scoffed, patting her pigtails down as her voice took on a mock-announcing tone. "Celebrated trainer from New Bark Town, beat all the Gyms in Johto, and I'm on my way to the Elite Four and the _magnificent_ land of Kanto. Plus…" Her grin widened. "He always seemed happy to see me. He always blushed when I talked to him."

"Megaaan, gan gayn nium," Meganium chortled in agreement. Kris could smell the sweet aroma emanating from her petals, so different from the spicy, aggressive fragrance of her time spent as a Bayleef. It resembled more of what she had smelled like as a Chikorita.

It had been so long since she had begun her journey with the young green Pokemon bounding by her side. Now it was like they had gone back, back to New Bark Town with a young boy who had golden eyes and an equally golden heart.

And really, Kris felt _right_ with the grin on her face, with the case of badges tucked in her bag, and with all her victories dangling over her head like a flashing neon sign of confidence. Like it was simply her place in life. If Kris had never had anything else, she had always had that: confidence. Assurance. Kris had always known her own strength, and it had only served to boost her as she rose from one challenge to the next, and emerged, grinning, having always succeeded.

Ethan Gold was simply another one of those challenges, one that lay a bit closer to her heart.

_But what about…_

"_Lyra_…"

Kris nearly jumped, her head snapping from one side to the other as she slammed her hands against the edge of the table.

Had she really just heard what she thought she heard? A whisper, a murmur, echoing her own thoughts? Squinting, half-rising, she fought to scan the dim-lit room, her heart hammering against her ribs.

When she heard nothing and saw nothing out of the ordinary, her elbows quivered, and she sank back into her chair.

Meganium gazed at her trainer with bewildered yellow eyes and relaxed her stance; she had been ready to battle a moment ago at the girl's violent reaction. What was going on?

Slowly, Kris allowed herself to breathe again. Maybe it had only been her imagination. But she could have sworn—

"_The girl's name is Lyra…_"

Her head snapped up again. So she _had_ heard correctly.

"What the hell?" Kris turned again, her gaze fervently attempting to penetrate the darkness.

Kris caught her breath in alarm as she saw.

It was _them_.

Their hair fastened in intricate buns she could never even hope to master with her own blue pigtails, pins piercing the black coils that arched upward to reveal pale, delicate necks and the red scruff of the top of a kimono. Their voices were soft, musical, as they chattered amongst themselves, proper, composed, eyes gleaming with that forever mysterious light. The last people Kris expected to be discussing her ordinary friend, but she saw it on their lips, the name—_Lyra._

What? The Kimono Girls were talking about Lyra?

_It must be a different Lyra_, Kris reasoned, feeling foolish. It wasn't a common name, sure, but there had to be at least one other girl in Johto named Lyra. Someone fabulous, maybe, worth gracing the scarlet lips of Ecruteak's exotic beauties…

_How stupid of me…jumping to conclusions…_

"_From New Bark Town._" A soft, tinkling laugh, a rustle of ivory skin against ivory teacups. "_She's from New Bark Town. Professor Elm…he gave it to her…_"

Kris froze.

There was definitely only one Lyra in New Bark Town.

"What in Arceus's name is going on?" she muttered furiously, glaring down at the wooden table. "Professor Elm—did what? What did he give her?"

Suddenly, she felt strangely like she was steaming, for no reason she could think of. Kris's jaunty exterior was hardly ever ruffled by anything, least of all by that harmless, shy twig of a girl.

"What reason do they have to be talking about Lyra?" she mumbled. "She's just an ordinary girl who lives in the most ordinary little town…"

She shook her head. It didn't make sense.

Meganium looked on in puzzlement. She vaguely remembered the girl herself—small, skinny, with brown hair and wide, uncertain brown eyes. Was there something interesting happening with her? As far as Meganium remembered, there had never been much to say about the Lyra girl. She had been quite ordinary, rather quiet.

"Unless…" No. Kris almost laughed at the thought; it wasn't possible. She was the trainer from New Bark Town. How silly for her to imagine something like that.

Still…why in the world would the Kimono Girls be discussing her friend? It must have been whatever Professor Elm had told the, whatever he had given her. After all, he had _some_ prestige in Johto, and maybe Lyra had started helping him out in the lab, too, along with Ethan. As far she knew, her friend had no name, no fame in the rest of the region, and barely any in New Bark Town itself. And yet…

"First Ethan," Kris grumbled, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, "and now the Kimono Girls?"

Her beloved, exotic Ecruteak City was the very opposite of little New Bark Town, where Lyra lived, and belonged. How had her name made it here?

_And what exactly did Professor Elm give to her?_

She curled her fingers around the cup, her voice chalky with irritation. "What exactly is going on here?"


	5. I Will Follow You Into the Dark

Author's Note:

Wow, I'm REALLY sorry, everyone, for how long it's been since I last updated this story. I spent a long time trying to write Chapter Five and failing at it...I wrote about five versions and didn't like any of them, and I sort of ran out of ideas on what to do for this chapter. After that, I went away for the summer and didn't attend to Fanfiction for a while...so yeah, I got pretty sidetracked, and I apologize to all of you for that. *sadfaceee* :(

HOWEVER, the other day, the idea for this chapter suddenly popped into my head and I started to write it down, and then the magic happened again...and voila! Here it is! I'm happy to tell you that I now know what I'm doing with this story once again, so consider it officially restarted! :D I hope I'll update a lot more in the future, even though it's senior year and I'm busy and argghhh...

But anyway, without further ado, here's Chapter Five!

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: I Will Follow You Into the Dark<strong>

The sun was slanting brilliantly over the roof of his house by the time Ethan came running back from the woods, Marill nipping at his heels and his shoes crunching against the well-worn carpet of leaves on the forest floor. Behind him, branches closed against the blue sky that was fading into violet, a cool evening breeze starting to rattle the leaves between them. He paused when the loud snap of sneakers against dry leaves faded into a soft pitter-patter over the grass in his front yard, and smiled. Red-gold sunset spilled over the green shingles, almost liquid, pooling into every crack in his house and, he imagined, spilling onto the wooden floors inside.

He turned around and whistled, sticking two fingers in his mouth. "Come on, Mari! It's time for dinner!"

Marill bounded after him and waved her arms happily, her ears twitching. She was a round blue sphere that nearly blended in with the rapidly approaching twilight behind them, sinking blue teeth into the gaps between the branches. "Marill, Marill!"

Ethan bent down and ran his fingers over the blue curves of her ears, laughing when he felt them twitch underneath his skin, sensitive as the strings of a harp. The outsides felt like rubber, but insides were soft, delicate, with the texture of wet velvet. It felt like water rippling under his hand, like a sign of _life_, knowing that there was someone on the other side who understood you no matter where both of you came from.

"Come on, Mare, I know you're hungry," he clucked, standing up and easing open his front door. He kicked off his shoes against the dirt-coated mat and sniffed. The delicious smell of cream of broccoli soup wafted out from the kitchen, filling his nostrils and making his stomach growl.

"Marill, Marill, Marill, _Marill_!" Marill was dancing impatiently from one leg to the other below him, side-stepping around the messy rows of shoes—his mom's, his dad's, several pairs of his sneakers—and Ethan couldn't help but laugh out loud. She yanked at the hem of his shorts and switched to bouncing on the ball on the end of her tail so that she almost reached his shoulders with every bounce, and finally Ethan rolled his eyes and leaned down, taking his Pokemon in his arms.

"Fine, I give in," he sighed, scratching her behind the ears and eliciting a squirm and a loud squeal of joy. "I'm as hungry as you are, you know. Let's hurry up and get some food then, shall we?"

"Mare!" Marill nodded firmly, sticking out her chin.

Ethan carried her into the kitchen, letting her jump out of his arms when they walked inside. He heard the clatter of plates, and spotted his mom dusting off her hands and untying the Cherubi-print apron wrapped around her waist.

"Mmm!" he exclaimed, rushing over as the smell accosted his nose again. "Mom, that smells delicious!"

"Eat up, honey." She grinned, draping her apron over the rack, and and pointed at two bowls set up on the table—one (red and white) for Ethan, one (with blue waves the color of the ocean, outlined against aquamarine) for Marill. He cried out, nearly forgetting to thank her, and dashed over to the table, cramming the spoon in his mouth. Marill did the same, plunging her nose with a loud squeal into the soup.

"Mmm, thiff iff af deliciouth ath it smellff!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, honey," Mrs. Gold reminded him, filling a third bowl for herself and setting it next to her son's. "Did you say bye to Lyra today, by the way?"

Ethan stopped, dropping his spoon back into his bowl with a dull thud cushioned by the thick layer of soup. He looked down and swirled it around the green strands that suddenly stuck out among the white, and tried to ignore the wave of the sadness that rose up inside him and threatened to rob him of his appetite.

Yes, he was happy for his friend, but this practically marked an end to an _era_. He remembered the way Lyra had turned around to wave at him, her wan smile and her huge brown eyes as uncertain as the curl of her thin fingers, and felt the impact of it again, the shock that had nearly knocked his stomach flat when he realized: _She really is leaving. Gone. Not coming back for a long, long time._

His best friend was leaving on a Pokemon adventure, and he was going to stay behind. Everything would be different now that Lyra was gone, too. He was the last one now. Who would he play with?

Ethan nodded after gulping down what was left of the soup in his mouth, and reminded himself to speak slowly, coherently. "Yup, I did." He looked up and tried to grin. "She's going on a Pokemon adventure, too? I mean—I had no idea that she was leaving! Why didn't you tell me, Mom?"

His mother shook her head as she sat down next to him. "I had no idea, either!" Frowning, she dipped her spoon into her bowl and took a small, much more _polite_ sip of soup. "Hmm, I think this needs more salt. But yes, who would have known that Professor Elm was eager to take on another trainer? I mean, he has _Kris_ of all people under his wing and then he has you to help out around the lab, and in all these years I've never known Lyra to show an interest in Pokemon—"

But Ethan was no longer listening, nor was he even chewing on the chunk of broccoli that, while nestled safely in his mouth, felt as if it had suddenly taken a leap downward and become lodged in his throat. All thoughts of Lyra had evaporated in a thin coil of steam, drifting away from the now boiling kettle of water that sat upon his skull. His cheeks had taken on a bright pink at the mere mention of Kris's name, as if a tiny Cyndaquil inside him was breathing an Ember onto both of his cheeks.

He had been thinking a lot about Kris lately, if he was honest with himself. Ever since the day she had dropped by before facing the Elite Four, he couldn't get the thought of her out of his mind. It seemed that the regular wooden fence that made up the boundaries of his mind had fallen away, letting his thoughts careen around his brain like bouncing balls, leaving behind the rules and regulations he had known since the day the three of them became best friends. It wasn't her so much as what had been said, what had happened between them that day when she so casually knocked on his door.

"Ethan!" his dad had called. "There's someone here to see you!"

He heard the loud, confident chatter before he was even all the way down the stairs: the flippant response of, "Oh no, Mr. Gold, it's fine, I just wanted to say hi to Ethan before I left. I'm just here to check in with Professor Elm. Oh, and I'm really excited to get to Kanto, you know. I heard it's beautiful, and of course it's very different from Johto. And how have you been lately? Is business going well? Yes, I heard that Goldenrod City is doing terrifically recently, business booming and all—oh, and where is Ethan? Oh, no, please don't worry about me, I'm in no rush at all—"

_Kris?_ His mouth widened in surprise. He knew that voice. Kris was here? What did that mean? Had she lost—or had she won?

Well, knowing her, she would be the first to tell him. A wry smile spread across his face as he waited from behind the corner of the stairs, only the top of his head and his eyes peering out from behind the banister. Kris would stop eventually and see him. He could practically see her hands waving nonchalantly through the air, her pigtails vibrating above her shoulders as she spoke.

It occurred to him now that that moment had probably been the last time he had ever looked at Kris in a normal light—smiling, chattering, her raven-blue hair bathed in the sun's glow from his open front door—as the girl he had known for as long as he remembered.

Sure enough, moments later, he heard the cry of "Oh, there he is! _Ethan_!" soar up from the front door, and then Kris swept past his father with the athletic, strong-legged authority she had developed from her years of biking. Without even taking off her shoes (he could practically hear his dad wince in the wake of the muddy footprints that were surely swimming before his eyes, imaginary or not), she planted her feet on the stairs and marched up toward him.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," he joked, grinning and crossing his arms. "Gee, what happened to earn us a visit from _you_, the great Kris almighty?"

"Oh, be quiet, Ethan." She punched him playfully on the shoulder and shrugged off her white jacket, slinging it over the railing of the stairs, as they walked up the rest of the stairs and into his room. Kris plopped down on his bed and swung her legs back and forth over the edge, the way she always did. "Something good, that's for sure. How could I _not_ come see you? I'm here in New Bark, aren't I? I already ran into Lyra outside, but I have to make sure I get to see _all_ of my best friends…"

But there was a sparkle in her eyes, a strange sparkle that Ethan hadn't seen before, and he supposed now that he should have known what was coming.

"Well, I'm glad you stopped by," he piped up, blinking himself out of his momentary stupor. "Why are you back, though? Are you taking a break from the Gym circuit right now?" He didn't want to add it, but silently, worriedly, he wondered: _Did you lose?_

All of his fears evaporated, however, when the wide, dazzling smile split Kris's face in two, opening a gaping hole of sunlight in her eyes. She did a little bounce on the tips of her fingers and swung her leg particularly hard, letting it slam against the frame of Ethan's bed with a loud _thunk_. "Actually…"

Ethan's heart did a tiny flip in his chest when his eyes met hers, and for the first time he noticed how crystal _blue_ they were when they were glowing with happiness like they were now. Kris was grinning up at him, and though it was the same old Kris that it always was, he couldn't help but think that it _wasn't_. It struck him how little, right now, she looked like the tomboy he knew she was…peering coquettishly at him up through her eyelids and pushing her shoulders forward in the tight red tank top she always sported underneath her jacket. She was smiling at him as if she was waiting for something; waiting, yes, but for what?

"What?" he echoed. "Actually what?"

Kris gave another kick, her pigtails bouncing perkily, and beamed.

"Would you believe me if I told you I won all eight badges?"

Ethan blinked, not sure he had heard right. It hadn't been _that_ long that Kris had been on her journey, had it? "You what?"

"I said…" she repeated, her grin widening, "would you _believe_ me?"

It took a few seconds for Ethan to get his voice to work, and by the time he succeeded, everything came rushing out in an incoherent flood.

"Oh…Kris—of _course_ I'd believe you!" His hand was rapidly twisting the brim of his cap back and forth on his head as he lurched forward toward where she was sitting. "It's you, after all, and…wow! Congratulations! That's—amazing, honestly!" And before he could think about it, buoyed by the weightlessness of motions that had been repeated hundreds of times and had become as easy, as fluid, as tipping onto his back underwater—he reached forward and threw his arms around her shoulders, squeezing hard.

A new, unfamiliar surge of warmth rushed through his stomach and when he felt her bare arms, a moment later, rise up and close around him. For some reason, the gesture sent tingles running from the place on his shoulder blades where she touched all the way down his spine. He breathed in, and instantly realized what a mistake it was when the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, but sweet, as if someone had flung the petals of a freshly picked rose inside its waters, flowery juices leaking into the blue.

The hug seemed to last much longer than the few seconds he was sure it really had, but soon Kris drew back, a smile dancing across her lips, her cheeks strangely flushed. _Do I look the same way?_ he wondered.

"Thanks, Ethan," she murmured, and then before he knew what was happening, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek in a short peck.

"Oh—I—no problem." His fingers rose almost against his will to the spot on his skin where her mouth had rested a second before, and he fought to blink away the fog that had settled over both of them.

Did this mean what he thought it did?

"Oh, and here!" Relief washed over him; the normal Kris was back, he was sure, as she bounded forward and grabbed his Pokegear from where it had been resting on his desk. "You know what, I think we should keep in touch, Ethan." He heard the click of buttons, and then a resolute slam as she set it back down on his desk. "I put my number in. Call me sometime, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure, I will."

He stared at the screen, at the string of numbers that, even if it was invisible to his eye, he knew now lay buried underneath the list of names under his contacts. Just because Kris was normal again, it didn't mean that everything else would be normal afterward, too, did it?

"I have to go now," she said flippantly, so much that he was sure he had imagined everything else that had happened. And then he heard the quick pitter-patter of footsteps as she turned and gathered her jacket and raced down the stairs. "Wish me luck, Ethan! And don't forget to call!"

"I won't—" he started, but she was already out the door.

"Bye, Mr. Gold!" she called out, and then the door swung shut, and she was gone.

Having grown up with girls all his life, Ethan had never been one of those guys who spent every moment of his day obsessing over them and wishing one would like him or talk to him or, Mew forbid, _kiss_ him. He never lamented over which girls were the most beautiful or who had the best curves or which of them he could ever imagine dating. He thought of girls as what they were—people, some who were kind and some who were mean and some who were somewhere in between, some who didn't like him and some who could be his friends. But now, for the first time, he realized that, in fact, Kris was a _girl_. Lyra was a girl. And—like the boys at school who sneered and made crass comments about girls' bodies, or the ones who sighed to each other and played video games all day because they never managed to get themselves girlfriends, even though Ethan never cared about something as tacky as romance—he realized that girls were _confusing_.

"Kris?" he whispered, the sound hissing through the room and bouncing off the silent walls, even though she was no longer there. "Good luck against the Elite Four."

He let his fingers fall from the mark on his cheek, and swore that, if he tried, he could still smell the scent of the ocean.

"Oh, and do you know which Pokemon she picked, honey?"

It took a while for Ethan to resurface at the sound of the voice that wasn't Kris's or his mind's. He clawed his way up through the thick soup of his own thoughts and finally broke through the film, gasping for air and shaking his hair out of his eyes to blink cluelessly at his mother. "Huh?"

"Lyra. Do you know what Pokemon she picked?" His mother smiled at him, spoon hovering midair, waiting.

"Oh. Yeah." Ethan dipped his own back among the white-and-green swirl, broccoli greener than the the leaf of a Chikorita, greener than the skin of a fully-grown Meganium. "She picked a Cyndaquil."

His mother hummed in approval. "Wow, a fire type. Impressive. They're not easy to train, that's for sure. I hope Lyra has the skill to control hers—"

But again, Ethan wasn't listening to his mother's speech. He was thinking about Cyndaquil, about Lyra's Cyndaquil, who was so ready to fight and yet so reluctant to befriend her, about the Cyndaquil that completed the triangle of Professor Elm's starting Pokemon (there was only Totodile left now), about the Cyndaquil that seemed to live inside him, coating his cheeks in fire whenever he thought about Kris. Cyndaquil were great Pokemon. They were sweet and easy to take care of, like Marill was, and at the same time every trainer knew that they would become fearsome opponents when they grew into the great hulking beasts that were Typhlosion.

But now, when he thought of Cyndaquil, he thought of Lyra, and suddenly he realized, without Kris, and without her, how alone he had really become.

He dropped his spoon abruptly back into his bowl, where the last few droplets of spoon hardly served to muffle the loud _clang_ it made against the china.

"Mom, I'm going outside for a walk, all right?"

His mother looked up, scanning his face, and then grimaced in sympathy. "Oh, honey…you're upset, aren't you?" She nodded, not waiting for his confirmation "I understand. I know you're going to miss Lyra. You were always so close. But just remember that you can always—"

"No, I'm fine, Mom." Ethan smiled. "I promise. It's not that. I just—need a bit of air." He held out his hand toward his Pokemon. "You coming, Marill?"

"Marill Mare!" The aqua mouse ran her tongue over her lips, licking the last drops of soup that stained her blue skin white, and nodded. She scampered off her chair as quickly as she could and trotted after him toward the front door.

"I'll be back soon, Mom," Ethan promised as he pulled on his shoes and opened the door.

Night had descended on New Bark Town. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and arced softly, gracefully over his head as he and Marill stepped outside, and he could hear the quiet chirps of bug Pokemon all around. Ethan pulled on the brim of his baseball cap, tugging it down over his forehead. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his shorts and started to walk, winding past first his house and then the short path that cut toward Lyra's.

As he stared up at the lit window upstairs of the house he had been to a thousand times, he imagined Lyra's mom sitting at her desk upstairs behind the closed curtain and looking at pictures of her daughter, now that she was gone, going through all of the pictures of her and Ethan playing together and Kris an animated blur or a grin next to them. Not much had changed since then. The thought made him smile. He and Lyra still sat together as Kris bounced around them, always a few steps ahead of both of them, her legs never stopping in their chase for glory.

Who was he to think he could catch up to her? Or, now that Lyra was gone, too, to either of them?

Kicking at the grass underneath his feet, Ethan circled around Lyra's house and started toward the lab. He couldn't see the lights from here, but he wondered if Professor Elm was still working, if he was still doing research downstairs or if he had moved upstairs to have dinner with his family. He used to live in Ethan's house, he knew, before they had moved there. But that had been before Ethan was born. He sometimes wondered if the professor ever wanted his house back, or if he was happy that his future assistant had moved there, that the old shell he had left behind had been filled by new shoes that had, in turn, shuffled a few houses over to follow in his own footsteps.

"Marill?"

"Hm?" He turned toward his Pokemon and saw her staring up at him with bright, liquid eyes.

"Marill." Marill brought her voice down to an urgent whisper, and Ethan tilted his head in curiosity.

"Is there something you have to tell me?"

"Marill Marill." Marill nodded her head in the direction of the lab and then turned back to him. "Marill _Marill_."

At first, when Ethan turned toward the lab, he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He didn't see anything but the dark navy and purple of the night, the branches as curved and crooked as claws yearning the scratch against the walls of buildings. He didn't see anything but the yellowish glow that the streetlights cast upon the ground, the shadows playing over the staunch, matter-of-fact walls of the lab.

But then the blur of movement caught his eye, a piece of night that didn't quite fit in with the rest, like a patch slapped hastily over the twilight and sewn on with threads of starlight. Ethan squinted and drew forward. It was a flicker of red flashing by amidst all of the blue, something that didn't belong. He tiptoed forward across the grass and waited, afraid he might scare whatever it was away. Maybe it was a Pokemon, some rare Pokemon that never showed its face around these regions. Maybe he could tell Professor Elm about it tomorrow, and they could laugh and marvel over the fact that it had been here, just a few steps outside his lab.

But when whatever it was moved again, this time, seconds later, he caught it—the figure, skinny and all limbs like a spider, ducking out from behind the walls of the lab and disappearing a second after in the tight, sporadic movements of something that doesn't want to be seen.

His fingers gripped the hem of his jacket. "What is that?" he breathed.

"Marill." Marill shrugged. _It's beyond me._

"I…we should go investigate," Ethan murmured, creeping forward and pressing his back against one of the walls of the lab. The creature—whatever it was—had emerged from the other side of the building, and he hoped that from where he was standing he would be able to spot it if it moved again.

A moment later, he heard a rustle and turned, laying his cheek flat against the surface of the wall. Ethan leaned forward and strained his eyes, staring at the field before him, daring the creature to emerge. And this time, when it did, materializing from behind the wall of yet another building, whatever it was was caught under the full glow of one of the streetlights. Ethan's eyes widened when he saw it.

It wasn't a Pokemon. It was a boy, with red hair streaming down toward his shoulders and a pale, pale face, decked in a navy blazer and blue pants. His mouth was pressed in a thin line as he streaked across the field and toward the safety of the woods nearby, something round and shiny clutched in his hand. Ethan had never seen him before, but he recognized the look in his eyes, the same look he always had moments before his mother caught him doing something he shouldn't be, like playing a computer game or talking on the phone when he should have been doing his homework: fear.

"That…that looked like a person, Marill," he deadpanned, his heart pounding.

This wasn't normal. This wasn't a regular occurrence. The thought hammered through his mind in a steady beat as Ethan had to remind himself of it over and over again. This was something strange, and unusual, and the fact that it had happened in the quiet, peaceful town of New Bark made him shiver.

"Marill." Marill nodded matter-of-factly.

"I think we should go after him." Ethan was surprised at the flat tone of his voice, which he had never known, ever, to be flat otherwise—shocked, really, considering his suspicions as to what the boy had been holding as he ran.

"Marill?" Marill looked up at him, _I believe in you_ and _Are you crazy?_ shining in the dark round pupils of her eyes at the same time, a testament to the power of the bond between human and Pokemon.

"Yeah." Ethan nodded, starting to trace his path back toward his house so that he could pick up his Pokegear and then, inevitably, let his mom know what he was planning on doing. "I'm serious."

"Mare, Marill." _Well, I'm in it if you are,_ the Pokemon seemed to say as she shrugged and scampered after her trainer.

Ethan squinted into the night again, trying to find any sign of the red-haired kid. "But first, we should tell Professor Elm, and my mom…"

He broke into a swift jog when he passed by Lyra's house, and as his eyes skimmed over the lit window again, he remembered that this was something he would definitely have told her, had she been home. Tomorrow, then, he would call her, and tell her what he would seen—

He jolted to an abrupt stop, Marill colliding against his heels, and slapped his hand against his forehead. Of course. How could he have forgotten? He didn't _have_ Lyra's number. The knowledge made his stomach sink; unlike Kris, he had neglected to ask her for it before she left. When would he be able to talk to her again? They had never _not_ spoken to each other for so long—not even during all of the times they had been grounded throughout the years, not when he or she was away on vacation, just _never_.

But maybe there was someone else he could talk to. Someone else…

And at the faintest _hint_ of the thought, curling around his head like a tendril of smoke, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—almost against his will, as if the warmth in his chest was struggling to soar out of his body and had just found a handy escape route. Yes, he might not have had Lyra's number, but he _did_ have Kris's, now that she had given it to him. And they were friends, right? Especially after…what had happened. He could call her, couldn't he?

Yes, in fact, now that he remembered it, he had _promised_ to call her. The warmth inside him hummed with contentment, vibrating through his veins. Ethan broke into a run again, back toward his house to fetch his Pokegear. It was a plan, then: tomorrow, first thing, he would call Kris.


	6. To Each Their Own Battle

**Chapter Six: To Each Their Own Battle**

"Hello?"

The voice on the other end of the line was a young boy's, clear as the sound of a ringing bell. Lyra pressed her Pokegear tighter against her ear in surprise, her shoes scuffling against the dirt, and squinted into the darkening sky. Clouds gathered in fuzzy, softening streaks, like bunches of lavender Mareep wool, against the backdrop of orange. Who could be calling her at this time of day?

"Hey, Lyra!"

Lyra started. So it wasn't a wrong number, after all. "Who is this?" she asked, running through a mental list of people she knew. A boy, a young boy…

For a moment, she pictured Ethan, with his laughing eyes and the swoop of dark hair that fell over his forehead and his backwards hat, and her breath caught in her throat.

Had he found her number somehow? She chewed on her lip, picturing the last time she had seen him—the most familiar of images: Ethan waving cheerily form underneath a canopy of branches, Marill bouncing next to him, his hair awash with afternoon sunlight—and frowned. For two people who had known each other and practically lived in each other's backyards since they were toddlers, their goodbye had been oddly abrupt. Something, whatever it was, had nipped at the back of her heels at the edge of the woods, had made her turn and run away from him. Lyra scrunched up her face in confusion. It had been dumb of her. How could she have left without getting Ethan's number? Maybe it had been the thought of her adventure, her need to leave New Bark Town before she could remember what it was that she would miss, that had driven her away. That must have been it.

Still, she wished she had stayed. The thought of having no way to reach Ethan and tell him everything that had happened on her very first day as a trainer sent a funny ache to her stomach.

A boisterous laugh from the other end of the line interrupted her train of thought.

"This is Youngster Joey!" the boy exclaimed, chasing all images of Ethan and half-formed ideas of what she would say to him from her mind. A strange emptiness settled in in their wake. "How are you doing?"

Youngster Joey? Lyra frowned and chewed on her lip, trying to place the name. And then she remembered, from the trainers she had battled that day: a boy with blue basketball shorts and a backward baseball cap. The hat had reminded her of Ethan's, actually.

"Oh, hi!" she said breathlessly. "Right, Joey. Of course. Um, it's nice to hear from you. I'm…I'm good, I guess."

She winced at the way her voice fell flat against the speaker of the Pokegear, but really, what were you supposed to say to someone you had only met once through a battle? She hadn't even known that trainers were supposed to give each other their numbers after they battled, though Joey had been the only one who asked. Was there some kind of trainer protocol for these things that she had never heard of? A momentary fit of panic seized her as she pictured a trainer's manual, packed full of rules and guidelines for socially acceptable behavior that she had failed to learn, locked away in one of the drawers Professor Elm's lab. He must have forgotten to give it to her, and now she must be _miles_ behind the other trainers.

As Lyra forced herself to take a deep breath, Joey's voice broke through her panicked haze.

"Cool! Look, you remember my Rattata, right?"

Rattata. Lyra calmed down, letting out her breath in relief. Good. She pictured the Pokemon: purple fur, fangs, hissing and spitting, its tail curled behind its body, a Pokemon she had seen and fought countless times in the grass that day. So maybe Joey just wanted to talk about his Pokemon.

"Yes?"

She could practically hear Joey swell up with pride on the other end. "Awesome!" His voice dropped, taking on a note of secrecy. "You know…I don't know if you could tell, but there's something special about my Rattata."

"Oh, really?" Was this something else she should know about Pokemon, or trainers?

"Yeah! He's really cool! It's like my Rattata is in the top percentage of Rattatas, you know?"

_Top percentage?_

"Uh, yeah," she stammered quickly. She had no idea what he was talking about. "He was a cool Pokemon, I remember. That's…that's cool!"

"Yeah! He's a terrific battler!" Joey barely paused to breathe in between his sentences, and she was glad he didn't pause long enough to catch her quiet, awkward responses. "Speaking of, that was a cool battle we had, Lyra. We should battle again sometime! I bet you Rattata and I will win next time, though!"

Lyra nodded, even though Joey couldn't see her. "Sure, battling again would be cool! I don't know when we could, but if you—"

_Click_.

"Hello? Joey?"

There was no answer. Lyra yanked the Pokegear away from her ear and held it in front of her face, frowning.

Trainers…they were strange people. She had learned that much throughout that afternoon. A lot of them stayed in one spot along the road and seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure in scaring whoever walked by with an obnoxiously loud challenge and a frenzied flail of their arms in their direction—and then, when they had the passerby's attention, they would fling their Poke Balls forward with what Lyra thought was way more flourish than the action required. Youngster Joey had been the first one she had come across, and he had nearly given her a heart attack when he jumped out at her from behind a tree.

Even more shockingly, in the wake of Lyra's yelp, Cyndaquil had _screeched_, flames bursting into life on her back with a noise Lyra hadn't even known her species could make. She had sprung into action, spitting and hissing like an angry Persian. Joey had apologized profusely (though it was probably more out of fear of being burnt to a crisp than any real regret), but the damage had already been done. Lyra's heart was still racing, and she had been too panicky over the ambush to even feel nervous about her first trainer battle as she yelled out commands. It had ended up helping them in the end. With a bristling, spooked fire type against his Rattata, no matter how top-percentage, or whatever Joey had called it, it was, they had easily won with Cyndaquil's over-enthusiastic Tackles and the venomous Leers she shot in its direction. Lyra had walked away from the battle dazed, a fistful of bills clutched in her hand and Youngster Joey's phone number, which he had somehow forced upon her, listed in her Pokegear, not sure what had just happened.

Still, somehow, she had managed to win every single trainer battle she had come across that day, against the many preteen boys who camped along Route 30, boys who either wore basketball shorts and a baseball cap or sported some sort of straw hat. Those in the latter category also carried nets with them and, she noticed, battled with bug Pokemon about whose strength they felt a strange amount of pride (and defensiveness, when that pride was challenged. Which was usually when they lost.). It was strange to imagine herself as one of them, as a _trainer_.

_Does that mean I'm strange, too?_ she wondered wryly.

Still, trainer battles were infinitely more interesting than beating up the timid, lower-leveled wild Sentrets and Rattatas who jumped out at her in the tall grass, Pokemon that Lyra was sure would much rather have been napping or enjoying a lazy afternoon snack of Berries than being forced to take Tackles until they collapsed. Lyra felt sorry for them. Her feet had tingled with excitement the first time she stepped into the tall grass on Route 29 (Well, not the first time: Kris had dared her and Ethan to go in once, before, when they were eight, but Kris's mom had caught them before they had run into any wild Pokemon. Even though they had gotten in trouble, Lyra was secretly grateful for that, even though Kris, and maybe even Ethan, would never let her hear the end of it if she ever admitted it.). She had jumped a few feet in the air when a Pidgey flapped its way out of a nearby bush, before remembering what she was there for and sending Cyndaquil forward with a shout.

Lyra hadn't been sure if her Pokemon would obey, but the fire mouse was surprisingly eager to battle, leaping forward with a smoky hiss. Ethan had been right; Cyndaquil was tough, and more than eager to prove her own strength. After only a few Tackles, the Pidgey had fallen into the grass, unconscious, one wing battered and bent at an odd angle. Feeling sorry for it, Lyra had plucked one of the Berries her mother had made her bring out of her bag and set it awkwardly next to the Pidgey's head. Maybe it would find it after waking up.

After that battle, Lyra had felt bad about disturbing the Pokemon in their natural environment, even though she knew that they _liked_ to battle and that they _had_ to battle to get stronger. That was how Pokemon were. She had learned in school that Pokemon's brains developed some kind of chemical that made them depressed if they didn't battle for a long time, read it straight out of a textbook citing Professor Birch of Hoenn. Yes, she knew all of that, but she still couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt whenever she saw a spasm of pain shake a Pidgey's wings, a Sentret wince with its large eyes and waver on the end of its tail, or a Rattata clench its fangs together in pain. She could already imagine Kris _tsk-tsk_ing at her, shaking her head, her pigtails bouncing, with a knowing grin.

"Lyra, you're so silly. You can't win with that attitude! Pokemon aren't going to get stronger on their own, you know! You have to make them work for it! Be a go-getter!"

Maybe it was true. Maybe Lyra just wasn't carved out to be a Pokemon trainer. Maybe that was why Kris had been chosen, and she hadn't. It made perfect sense.

Still, when she let it sink in that she had won _every single battle_, trainer or wild, that day, a glowing feeling swelled inside her and spread throughout her limbs, followed by a muted whisper of _I can do this_. Was that unusual? she would wonder. Did most people win? If she could just continue this streak for the rest of the journey… But then the thought would cut itself short when she pictured what Kris would say to her if she knew that Lyra had set out on a Pokemon journey, a big grin across her face, and then the feeling would evaporate instantly in the wake of her friend's imaginary words:

"Gosh, Ly-Ly, what's the big deal? Of course you won. Battling the trainers around Route 30 is like taking scales from a Magikarp, you should know that. They're the _definition_ of novice." A laugh, like a shared joke, except it was one that Kris only shared with herself. "You want to know why they stay here, anyway? It's because they can't get anywhere else!" And here Kris would wink, of course, to show that she was only teasing. "Good job, though, Lyra, every trainer's got to start _somewhere_."

_At least I'm starting_, Lyra reminded herself firmly. Even if she was only on the second route. It didn't matter that she wasn't that far ahead, or that most of the trainers she met along the roads looked a few years younger than her. She knew she could blend in with the rest of them them without a problem; people, especially Kris, were always telling her how she could pass for a ten-year-old. But still, she didn't want to imagine how Kris would react if she knew that her old friend had become a Pokemon trainer. She would congratulate her and find it adorable; it would make her smile.

But it didn't matter that Kris was already on her way to challenging the Elite Four, Lyra reminded herself. She wasn't planning to aim that far, anyway…was she?

"One step at a time," she whispered out loud, and Cyndaquil twisted over her shoulder and shot her trainer an odd look.

"Quil?"

"Nothing," Lyra muttered quickly. Great. She had forgotten that she couldn't act like an idiot all the time now, now that she had someone always following her around; a living shadow. It would take some getting used to that.

But then she noticed that Cyndaquil wasn't staring at her; her nose was pointed curiously up toward her hand. Lyra followed her gaze and saw her Pokegear, still clutched in her fingers, glittering in the last rays of the fading sunlight.

Lyra paused, surprised. "Oh, this?" she asked, flicking her wrist so that the sunlight played across the machine's silver surface. Cyndaquil's nose followed the motion, and she nodded eagerly, the flashing light catching her eye.

"Cyndaquil queel?"

As questions went, that was a pretty easy one to decipher. "This is called a Pokegear," Lyra explained. She stopped walking and bent down so that she could hold the Pokegear close to Cyndaquil's face.

Cyndaquil leaned forward, eyes scrunched up with curiosity, and sniffed at the screen. Her eyes narrowed, and she backed up, eyeing the machinery with no small degree of suspicion.

"Queeeel." Cyndaquil shook her head slowly, still examining the Pokegear with distrustful eyes. "Quil quil."

"Oh…yeah, it's strange, I guess. Like most human things," Lyra laughed. She beckoned at her Pokemon, then, on second thought, scooted closer herself to where Cyndaquil was sitting in the grass alongside the road. Once she was close enough, she snapped open the Pokegear so that both of them could see the screen. "But see, this is a really useful thing to have, especially for trainers. It lets you make calls to people—like I just did—and there's also a map on here that shows us where we are." Did Pokemon even know what calling or a telephone was? It would probably be best to explain, she decided. "Calling is like…being able to talk to someone else without being face-to-face with them. You can hear their voice without having to see them."

"Queeeeeel." Cyndaquil nodded as she let out a low whistle, looking impressed; Lyra allowed herself to relish the moment's worth of pride that sparked in her stomach. It was the first real sign of being impressed that her Pokemon had shown since—since they had met, really. Ethan had certainly been right about her Pokemon's pride.

"Yeah, and see—" She pressed the Map button on the screen with her finger, determined to milk as much out of the moment as she could, and a colorful spread of Johto unfolded before their eyes. "Look at this."

"Quil!" Cyndaquil's eyes widened, or at least widened as much as they could for a Pokemon whose eyes wouldn't fully open until she evolved. "Quil quil!"

"I know, it's cool, isn't it?" Lyra agreed, smiling. Who knew that all impressing a jaded Pokemon took was the simplest of human technology? She made a mental note to use this same technique the next time she had to entertain a bored Pokemon. "It's a map of Johto. Er, you know, the country we live in. Look, this is where we are." She pointed to Route 30 on the map, where a small cartoon head figure indicated their position along the path. They were near the end of the route, Lyra noticed with something that felt like relief, close to a red square that marked the next town over. Lyra scrolled over to it, and the heading "Cherrygrove City" appeared in small text underneath the square. "Hey, look, we're almost at Cherrygrove City. I think we'll stop there for the night."

Cherrygrove City lay west of New Bark Town, an entire afternoon's walk away, as Lyra had discovered. According to the map, both of them bordered on the southern coast of Johto. Lyra stared at the network of red squares spread over the green hills and brown landscape on the map, some tiny, some that dwarfed the tiny ones in large rectangles, winding past rivers and miniature icons of forests and mountains, and a bizarre, dizzying sense of vertigo swooped over her head. For a moment, she felt as if the world was opening above her in a giant net that stretched up to the sky, wrapping around her and parachuting her along with its ascent. New Bark Town was so _tiny_. Lyra had never even realized the magnitude—or lack thereof—of its tininess until now. It was the smallest square on the map, tucked in the southeast corner of the region.

Her head spun. To think that she had lived all fourteen years of her life there, except for vacations and the occasional day trip to Goldenrod. To think that she had never truly known the world outside the woodsy walls of New Bark Town. To think that her own mother had expected her never to leave.

And what about Ethan? Would he be stuck there forever, too, in that claustrophobic corner of the world?

"Queel?" Cyndaquil peeped softly, leaning forward as Lyra snapped the cover of the Pokegear shut and stood up. This time, she didn't even take a moment to savor the first time her Pokemon had shown her what seemed like concern, softening through the gentle furrows of her eyes. She pushed the Pokegear into her bag and started walking along the path, not really caring where she was going, her legs moving as quickly as they could. Cyndaquil scampered alongside her feet, trying to keep up.

"We're getting out of here, Cyndaquil," she said tersely.

"Quil? Cyndaquil! Queeeeeeeeel!" Cyndaquil cried as she struggled to catch up with her trainer, panting.

Lyra heard her, but she could barely bring herself to slow down even for her Pokemon, her feet windmilling against the ground as if of their own accord. Why had it taken her so long to leave? If she had known that Professor Elm would have given her a Pokemon to take care of, she would have asked years ago. The thought of being stuck in the same place forever, of never seeing the world outside her hometown, suddenly felt like a trap, reaching forward with gnarled teeth to hold her back; she lunged forward, swallowing rapid gulps of air, of freedom. That fate had almost befallen her, but no, she had escaped. She pictured the map again in her mind's eye, saw the lattice of roads unrolled across greenery, and her legs tingled as she felt in her muscles all of the roads her feet would walk: an ache of relief.

"Queeeel!" Cyndaquil called out again. This time, a note of desperation rang out in her squeal, and Lyra stopped at the sound. She heard skittering footsteps as Cyndaquil caught up to her, blowing small clouds of smoke against the pavement as she panted. The fire Pokemon nearly ran into Lyra's heels, and she stared up at her trainer, indignation burning in her eyes.

"Quil quil Cyndaquil quil Cynda!" she scolded, her hackles rising. The tiniest flicker of a flame erupted from one of the spots on her back. "Cyndaquil!"

Lyra sighed and dropped onto the grass beside the route, the reckless energy evaporating from her heels. Guilt set in in its place. She was a trainer now, and that had been majorly irresponsible of her. She had just left her Pokemon behind with no explanation. She crumpled forward, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I'm sorry, Cyndaquil," she murmured into her sleeve. "I really shouldn't have run off like that. I'm really sorry; that was stupid of me."

A sweet, perfumed scent suddenly caught her attention, and Lyra lifted her head, scanning the road. To her surprise, the route seemed to have changed around her as she ran. Where there had once been acres of forest that lined the road, she now saw a neat white picket fence bordering the edges of the path. On the other side, orange and pink flowers swayed gently in the breeze. Lyra sniffed again, and the aroma strengthened. Against her will, her shoulders relaxed as it settled over her head, heady and calming. So that explained the scent.

This must be Cherrygrove City, she realized. So they had made it.

She glanced back at Cyndaquil to tell her they had arrived, but she was almost afraid to look. The fire mouse clearly hadn't liked her very much in the first place—what would she think of her trainer now? Was it possible for Pokemon to desert their trainers if they really hated them? Had she already failed at training? Lyra gripped the tops of her shoes, fingering the worn red fabric as she turned to her Pokemon.

To Lyra's surprise, Cyndaquil wasn't hissing or glaring at her or getting ready to fire an Ember in her direction. Instead, she stared at her trainer with crinkles in the corners of her eyes, and then she craned her neck forward and tentatively nudged Lyra's leg with her nose.

"Quil?" she murmured.

Lyra blinked, completely caught off-guard.

"Are you—are you asking if I'm okay?" she asked, incredulous.

Cyndaquil flinched for a moment, as if the question hurt her pride (it probably did, Lyra realized too late), but then she tensed her shoulders and shook herself off, seeming to muster all of her strength.

She nodded firmly. "Quil."

Lyra fumbled with words for a second as her tongue refused to obey her. A feeling of warmth swelled up inside her, fighting the cooling breeze. Her Pokemon _cared_. She actually _cared_ about her.

"W-wow, thanks, Cyndaquil," she stammered, a smile spreading across her face. "That really means a lot to me."

Cyndaquil let out a snort and flicked her nose to the side as if to say, _Yeah, okay, I get it. Now answer my question_.

Lyra sucked in her breath, but she couldn't keep the smile from widening across her face, even if she probably looked like a slobbering fool right now. "I mean, just—thanks, Cyndaquil. I…I'm okay now, I think."

"Quil," Cyndaquil said again, more forcefully. "Cyndaquil?"

Lyra paused, trying to decipher the question. "Y-you mean, what's wrong?" she asked after a moment.

Cyndaquil nodded. "Quil."

Lyra hesitated, realizing that she actually had no idea how to answer that question. How much did Cyndaquil actually want to hear about what was bothering her? She knew from experience that answers to "Are you okay? What's wrong?" ranged from a quick "Yes" or "No" to hour-long stories complete with tears and heartfelt confessions. She wasn't sure where along the spectrum her answer fell, though she was pretty sure it wasn't near the latter. How could she put what she had just felt, that claustrophobia, that unbearable energy surging through her veins, into words?

She took a breath. She could at least try to start from the beginning.

"You know the town we both came from, right? New Bark Town." A curt nod. "Okay. Well—"

It suddenly occurred to her that the Pokemon who trainers traveled with probably had little to no idea what they were actually going to be _doing_ on their journeys. Yes, battling, obviously, but did trainers explain to them at the beginning of each journey about the Gym system and the Championship and cities and regions and everything? Lyra coughed, clearing her throat, overwhelmed.

"Do you know what the Gym circuit is?"

Cyndaquil cocked her head to the side, confused. Great. That would be a no.

"Okay, well, basically, trainers and their Pokemon go around different towns in a region—that would be Johto for us—battling these people called Gym leaders in every town. Gym leaders are like…they're basically the strongest trainer in the town. Trainers who travel there go into the Gym and challenge them, and if they win, they win a badge. You need eight badges to compete in the Pokemon League, which is where you battle the best trainers in the entire region, four of them, called the Elite Four, and then the Champion, the strongest trainer in the entire region. And if you win, _you_ become Champion."

Lyra took a deep breath, short on air after her speech. But it had clearly been worth it; Cyndaquil was staring up at her with eyes as wide as she could open them.

"Cynda?" she murmured in an awed voice.

"What's that?"

"Cynda…Cyndaquil?" Lyra watched as Cyndaquil lifted a paw and pointed at herself and then Lyra, and then reached up toward the sky. "Cynda. Cyndaquil?"

"You and me," Lyra translated slowly. "You and me…up…you and me…up high…you and me…er…winning?"

"Quil!" An excited nod.

"Could you and I and win?"

"Quil quil!"

Lyra bit her lip and turned away. Could they? It felt a little ridiculous for her to aim that high and believe that was possible, and it felt _more_ than a little presumptuous to tell her Pokemon that they could do it. And also…Kris…

"See, I don't know," she said. She felt a pang of guilt when Cyndaquil's face fell and quickly added, "Not that we couldn't, of course. It's just that…no trainer can ever say if they can make that far, you know? We've only just started, and we would have to travel across the entire region." She frowned, running the list of Johto Gym towns through her head. _Violet, Azalea, Goldenrod, Ecruteak, Cianwood, Olivine, Mahogany, Blackthorn…_ That was a _long_ way across Johto. The thought made her shiver. "And see, we're sort of behind. I mean, my friend Kris—you didn't get to meet her, because she left for her journey two years ago—she's already gotten all of her badges, and she started battling the Elite Four already. She beat two of them. But then she lost."

Cyndaquil slumped back down at the word _lost_. Still, the look in her eyes urged Lyra to keep talking. So she did.

"I mean, the thing is…" Lyra swallowed. "The thing is that everyone in our town thinks she can win. Including me. Forget thinks—we _know_ she can win. She's always been brilliant and driven and awesome like that since we were little." Great, now she was depressing herself. And as always, what made her _more_ depressed was the fact that she was depressed at all—she would have thought that she could have accepted it by now and not still have been so selfish, dreaming up impossible dreams on her own. "She's going to be like that kid—he's a legend in the trainer world—his name is Red. He's from Kanto, the next region over from here, but he was amazing like that, too. He beat the entire Kanto League at age ten, and he even defeated Team Rocket—this criminal organization that stole Pokemon from everyone and hijacked an entire company—along the way, too. A prodigy."

Cyndaquil had risen on her haunches again, the awed, starstruck look back on her face as she leaned against Lyra's leg. She absentmindedly reached up to stroke the Pokemon's head—surprised when Cyndaquil sank down and let her—but a pang of disappointment pierced her stomach. That was just what she needed, wasn't it: for her Pokemon to feel that way about Kris? As if not enough people already worshipped her.

Lyra sighed, angry at herself for letting all of this get to her. It was the same cycle every time: envy, followed by guilt. She hated feeling jealous, and she hated the fact that there were such snarky, petty words to describe the feeling: _Jealousy_. _Envy_. Like they didn't encompass her lifelong dreams. Like this was some kind of stupid school drama.

"So, since everyone in New Bark Town knows she's going to win and bring the honor of the Championship to our town…why even bother picking another trainer from the same place?" Lyra continued, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. It was no use getting worked up about facts, she told herself—facts were facts, and there was no changing them. "So my mom always kind of figured I would stay back and spend my entire life there, in New Bark Town. Like Ethan does. He helps out Professor Elm around the lab, and he's pretty sure he's going to end up being a Pokemon researcher. But I…" She paused and braced herself before plunging ahead. "Well, the thing is, I've always wanted to travel, too, Cyndaquil. With a Pokemon. I just…never thought I'd have the chance."

Silence hung over them like a mural. Lyra looked down, her fingers still absentmindedly stroking Cyndaquil's fur. The dark green looked almost black in the descending night. It was strange, she thought, how the first person other than Ethan she had told this to was a Pokemon who hadn't liked her very much at all. But now Cyndaquil was staring up at her with shining eyes, squinting at her as if she was studying her trainer in a new light. Was this what it took to earn her respect, Lyra wondered—the fact that she was fighting a battle, too?

"So what do you think, Cyndaquil," she asked, sucking in her breath, "can we do this? Do you _want_ to aim for the Championship? Because, I mean, you're the one who's battling. Just say the word and we don't have to."

Cyndaquil didn't even pause. Lyra nearly jumped as her paws slammed against her leg when she jumped up, a wisp of flame flaring from her back.

"Quil!" she exclaimed, throwing her snout in the air and shooting Lyra a disdainful look over her shoulder as if offended at the very question. "Cynda_quil_ quil!"

Lyra laughed as Cyndaquil leaped out into the road and started running forward, as if she already wanted to start. A Hoothoot let out a quiet cry from behind a bush, and Cyndaquil swatted at it with her paw, sending it shrieking and flapping into the dusk air, its round body barely visible against the violet sky.

Hoothoot. Lyra frowned, bells ringing in her head. Didn't those only come out after a certain time of the night? Was it already that late? She pulled her Pokegear from her bag and flicked it open. Eight p.m. More than late enough to start heading to the Pokemon Center in Cherrygrove City to find a place to sleep for the night before all of the rooms were taken. It was only thanks to the long, light days of springtime that it hadn't grown completely dark yet. Lyra pocketed her Pokegear and stood up, dusting off her overalls and picking stray pieces of grass from her stockings, and followed after her Pokemon.

Despite all of her pride, her fierceness, her refusal to turn her nose down in front of anyone, Cyndaquil believed in her. So why _couldn't_ she start believing in herself? What was stopping her?

"Cyndaquil!" she called, smiling as she followed after the small figure in the distance. "Come back!"

As she saw Cyndaquil double back toward her, she nearly stumbled on something that felt like a small, strangely soft rock on the ground, and without warning, a sharp cough rang out uncomfortably close to her face.

Lyra raised her head to see a pair of flinty gray eyes glaring back at her, a sharp, pale-skinned nose almost jammed against hers, more than a few feet too close for comfort.

Lyra leaped back, startled, and nearly landed on Cyndaquil, who had reached her foot. The fire mouse let out a squeal of protest, and Lyra looked up, utterly disoriented. Her hat had flopped askew over her eyes during the confusion, and as she pushed it back into place, she blinked and squinted at the person she had crashed into.

She hadn't heard any footsteps, but a tall, skinny boy was standing in front of her, his feet planted firmly in the ground as if he had been there all along. His spidery limbs were pressed inside a navy blazer, and unkempt strands of red hair streaked around his shoulders. The boy's face twisted in a scowl, and by the well-worn lines it carved into his face, Lyra couldn't tell if it was the usual expression he wore or if he was just annoyed that the two of them had nearly collided with each other.

She stared back at him, curiosity stirring inside her like a whisper. His face looked strangely familiar, even though she was pretty sure she had never seen him before. Why had he walked up so close to her, though? Was he some kind of overly pushy trainer who really wanted a battle with her? She doubted that "getting in the other trainer's face" would have made it inside the trainer's manual for proper social behavior if there was such a thing.

But to her surprise, it was the boy who looked offended.

"What the—" he snapped in a gruff voice.

"Sorry," Lyra apologized quickly._ You were the one who snuck up on me, though,_ she added silently, indignantly. "My bad."

The boy only returned her apology with another glare, and Lyra shrank back from the silver fire in his eyes. What had she done to make him so angry?

But then she saw his gaze focus on the ground near her foot—no, not the ground, _Cyndaquil_, she realized, following the direction of his gaze—and in the reflection of the dim evening light, a peculiar light seemed to ignite in his eyes. It was a dancing flame, red and consuming with its tendrils, separate from the glare that filled the gray of his eyes: more focused, wilder, a blaze of anger and determination.

What was so fascinating about her Pokemon? she wondered apprehensively, backing away from his gaze. Yes, not that many trainers walked with their Pokemon outside of their Poke Balls, but still, it didn't seem to merit the strange gleam in his eye as he scrutinized the fire mouse.

To her credit, Cyndaquil only stared back at him with distaste, her eyes narrowed, her nose high in the air.

Lyra glanced back at his face just in time to see his lip curl in a sneer.

"You got a Pokemon at the lab," he scoffed finally, the flame in his eyes disappearing as he looked away from Cyndaquil and crossed his spindly arms over his chest. "That Pokemon's too good for a wimp like you, though."

Lyra blinked at his remark, not sure she had heard right. Was this a normal thing for trainers to do, to march up and blatantly insult each other? Surely he couldn't be _this_ rude, could he?

"I—I'm sorry?" she stammered.

The boy snorted and flicked his hand aside, as if deeming her question too stupid to answer. Lyra followed the motion of his thin, elegant fingers with her eyes. They reminded her of pale Ariados legs.

"Well, I too have a good Pokemon. I'll show you what I mean!" he shouted, and before she could react, he swung his arm back and flung a gleaming Poke Ball forward.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

Again, I wrote a few drafts of this chapter (though not nearly as many as the last one) before finally finding one that I was happy with. It's odd how that happens, isn't it, how on one of the drafts inspiration just comes and you think to yourself "This is it," while the other ones feel all awkward?

Anyway, thanks again for reading (and hopefully reviewing, too! you know you want to *wink* because the wink smiley just does not work at the end of a parentheses...)! Yay for the Silver entrance! This chapter was originally supposed to include the entire Silver battle, but then the conversation with Cyndaquil got drawn out and it felt right to end the chapter there. So, Silver battle coming up in the next chapter, plus the return of Ethan! Yay! :D

The good thing is that I already have a lot of that chapter written, since I was planning to include it originally, so another update should be coming in soon. Feedback is always lurved. :) Until next time!

EDIT: I changed the chapter title.


	7. Make New Friends But Keep the Old

**Chapter Seven: Make New Friends But Keep the Old**

The Poke Ball swerved dangerously close to Lyra's forehead, and she jumped back, nearly tripping over the picket fence at the side of the road. Her elbows jammed against the pointed tips. As she rubbed them, wincing, the Poke Ball missed her head and dropped to the ground with a flat thump in front of her. A flash of light exploded from its split mouth, almost blinding in the fading dusk.

When she blinked the after-image away, the spots of light behind her eyelids swirling and finally disappearing from view, an oddly familiar-looking Pokemon was perched on the ground between her and the boy.

Lyra stepped forward from the fence, her eyes fixed on the Pokemon. It was small and lizard-like, its limbs slightly chubby, red spikes trailing down its back. Turqoise scales glistened under the last streaks of sunlight, the glowing patterns they painted reminding her of the sun's rays dappling the surface of the ocean. A spiked tail swung back and forth behind its body, pulling the Pokemon slightly off balance with its weight; its body swayed with the motion. As she watched, the Pokemon opened its eyes, revealing glittering red, and turned toward her with a big, toothy grin.

"Dile!" it slurped, clapping its paws together. A trickle of saliva dribbled down its chin. "Totodile!"

_Totodile_? Lyra didn't even need to dig through her bag for her Pokedex at the sight of the Pokemon. Totodile—that was the third starter that had been back in Professor Elm's lab! Her eyes widened as she stared down at the blue lizard-like Pokemon, which beamed back at her.

Totodile were rare, she knew. She had only ever seen them inside books and on the internet and taped to the binder of one boy at school who bragged about how rich his family was and how many rare Pokemon they could afford. But this—this here and now—this felt like déjà vu. Just hours earlier, she had been deciding between Cyndaquil and Totodile, hadn't she?

Lyra looked down and smiled tentatively back at the Totodile. The little Pokemon was cute, if a little clumsy-looking, with its large jaw and wide, slapping feet.

"You have a Totodile?" she blurted out, looking up eagerly at the boy.

Her voice lodged in her throat when she caught sight of the boy's face. He was shaking his head and glaring down at his Pokemon, fists clenched at his side and eyes full of…disgust? Disappointment? His face looked all the more drawn and pale, his pointed chin thrust out. Lyra didn't understand. Hadn't he picked the Pokemon himself? Why would he have chosen the Totodile if he wasn't satisfied with it in the first place?

His head snapped up as he finally seemed to hear her question. "Yeah," he growled, spitting the word like a curse. "So what?"

"N-nothing, I was just asking," Lyra muttered quickly, feeling a flush rise up to her cheeks. "Never mind."

"Cynda!" The impatient squeak jolted her out of her thoughts; she looked down to see Cyndaquil pawing impatiently at the pavement. Her Pokemon's eyes were fixed on the Totodile, a sneer already making its way across her snout. "Cyndaqueel!"

"Well, okay then," the boy snorted. "If you're not too busy staring, can we get on with this?"

"U-um, right." Lyra stepped forward to stand behind Cyndaquil, though she couldn't shake the sense of alarm at both the boy's attitude and the sight of the Totodile. What were the odds? "Right. On with the battle."

The corner of the boy's lip curled in a sneer, and for the first time she could remember, she saw his eyes light up with something that looked close to happiness. He unclenched his fists and thrust his right arm forward.

"All right. Totodile, Scratch!"

The Totodile's jaw snapped shut as it finally turned away from Lyra, looking startled. Tail swinging behind it, it raised a foot and lunged blindly in Cyndaquil's direction, claws outstretched, reaching for her fur.

"Dodge it, Cyndaquil!" she shouted.

Her command turned out to be unnecessary. Cyndaquil snickered and let out an arrogant peep of "Quil!", and then lifted her foot and stepped almost daintily to the side, turning her nose into the air. She was showing off, Lyra could tell. And enjoying it.

The Totodile crashed forward, its much larger body slowing it down, and toppled to the ground next to her, arm flailing and jaw sliding against the pavement.

"How—that was pathetic!" the boy yelled, burying his fingers in his shock of hair. A man and a woman walking by hand in hand turned at his exclamation. "I can't believe this."

"Dile…" The Totodile shook its head, blinking, and climbed to his feet. It spun around, tail catching behind it, and nearly lost its balance as it twisted around to face Cyndaquil. It bared its teeth at her. "Dile!"

"Quil-quil-quil," Cyndaquil tittered, turning away.

There was something about the look in the Totodile's eyes, the way the glittering red seemed to dull for an instant, the way its jaw slackened, the gleam of hurt and dejection that flared up before subsiding that made Lyra stop. She bit her lip. It reminded her too much of something. Something she couldn't put a finger on. No, why lie? It reminded her too much of…herself.

"Hey, stop," she said, before she could stop herself. Cyndaquil turned and shot her a defiant glare. She stared back, shaking her head. "That's rude."

"Quil quil?"

"It's not nice of you to make fun of…" Him? Her? How was she supposed to know its gender? She took a wild guess; she had a fifty-fifty chance, after all, and it _seemed_ like a boy. "Totodile. We're in the middle of a battle here. Focus on the fighting and not on…talking to him."

If Cyndaquil had been human, Lyra was pretty sure that the expression she was giving her now would be the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. What had happened to the show of camaraderie that had taken place before, when the two of them had agreed to aim for the Championship? Now it seemed like she was asking, _Really? You? You're going to try this?_

"Oh, please. This is ridiculous," the boy scoffed. "Enough of this crap. It's been one move."

"Y-yeah, okay. But no…no more rudeness, okay?" Lyra faced her Pokemon. "Seriously. It's…it's not fair. Imagine if someone were doing that to you."

She took a breath as saw the defiance bubbling up in Cyndaquil's gaze, saw the fire building, ready to lash out, ready to argue, and braced herself. How stupid would she look in front of this boy, who probably already thought she was stupid, if her Pokemon couldn't obey her orders, even ones that didn't have to do with battling? Trainers who couldn't control their Pokemon looked like fools.

But to her surprise, Cyndaquil inhaled a breath of air through her nostrils and then nodded reluctantly. "Quil." _Fine_.

Lyra nodded back, too startled to even smile. What had just happened? Had she just…had Cyndaquil just listened to her? She blinked. "Good."

When she looked up, she saw that the boy was now attempting to drill holes in her with his eyes. "Come on. Can we just get on with this, already?"

"Right. Sorry." Lyra took a breath, and pointed her arm forward. She watched as both Pokemon scrambled back into fighting positions, Totodile climbing to his feet and thrusting his arms back, Cyndaquil leaning back on her haunches, ready to spring. Lyra scanned her Pokemon's face; there was no trace of the snooty arrogance left in her eyes, only quiet determination. A shiver of something that felt almost like pride trickled down her spine.

"Cyndaquil…Tackle!"

"Scratch again!"

The two Pokemon both sprang forward, Totodile keeping his balance this time, his tail dangling straight behind him. But Cyndaquil was faster. She jammed her nose into the blue belly of the Totodile, making him topple backward—but this time, as Lyra watched, the big jaw Pokemon caught himself on his tail, using it to _keep_ his balance instead. He howled in pain and flung out a claw; as Cyndaquil leaped back, out of range, it caught on her shoulder, and Lyra winced at the gash it drew down her fur.

"C-Cyndaquil!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering. As Cyndaquil twisted over her shoulder, looking annoyed, Lyra cleared her throat and tried to cover up her mistake. "I-I mean—good job! You got him!"

The two Pokemon jumped back again, going back to circling and sizing each other up at a safe distance away. They watched each other with wary eyes, and Lyra lifted hers up to squint at the boy's face. Across from her, she saw him stare down and give the slightest of nods at his Pokemon, his jaw still set in disapproval.

The confusion rose inside her again. She still didn't understand his problem. Why was he treating his Pokemon like this, when it was fighting so hard for him? People who didn't like Pokemon—which this boy, for some strange reason, seemed not to—usually didn't _become_ trainers, though once in a while you always heard about the occasional case of Pokemon abuse. Those were always horrible, but luckily, they were few and far between. Still, Lyra didn't like to think about them, and she didn't think that _this_ boy, as rude and belligerent as he seemed, could be cruel enough to do something like that. If anything, he seemed as if he didn't even know his Pokemon—as if he had never established any connection to him.

For some reason, the thought spurred a flicker of curiosity in her mind; she stopped, trying to figure out what it was about the thought that bothered her. Before she could reach a conclusion, though, the boy's gruff voice cut into her reverie, yanking her back into the battle.

"Come on, Totodile, what are you waiting for? Scratch it again!"

"Diiile!" Totodile lurched forward, jaw opened eagerly. Cyndaquil leaped back with a squeak. But this time, instead of falling back, Totodile gave chase, bounding after her and landing hard on one of this feet. His tail whipped behind him, spikes reflecting the orange light of the sky.

"Dodge, Cyndaquil!" Lyra called, hands flying to the brim of her hat.

As she watched, Totodile kept advancing on her Pokemon with large, intimidating steps, each one slapping the ground with a loud smack. She waited for Cyndaquil to scoff at him again, or skirt around him, or plunge her nose into his stomach, but to her surprise, the fire mouse stared up at him quietly and took a step back.

"Cyndaquil! What are you waiting for?"

But Cyndaquil didn't respond. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for an escape. Totodile seemed to notice that something had changed; his eyes glimmered brightly, and he stepped forward again, ramming his foot against the ground. Cyndaquil let out a squeak and backed away again, as the larger Totodile stretched out his arms to the sides as if trying to swallow her in his grasp. He was blocking off her escape, Lyra realized. And Cyndaquil didn't like it, the stomping he was doing; with her underdeveloped eyes, she relied on her sensitive ears to guide her, and the loud noises threw her off. Totodile had found a good strategy.

"Cyndaquil! Come on! Tackle him!"

The boy's eyes lit up across from her, almost glowing in the twilight. Cyndaquil leaned back on her haunches, getting ready to spring, but Totodile stomped forward again, advancing on her. She skittered backward. The white fence loomed behind her, and Lyra realized too late what he was trying to do.

"Keep going, Totodile!" the boy bellowed.

"Cyndaquil! Don't let him back you into the fence!" she called. "You can do it! J-just ignore him and go for the belly!"

"Cyn-_da_!" Cyndaquil growled, shaking her head back and forth as the Totodile continued his stomping advance on her. She spun over her shoulder, taking in the sight of the fence, and whirled back around. And then, before Lyra knew what was happening, she threw her nose back and lunged forward.

But instead of going in for a Tackle, something strange happened: a cloud of thick, gray smoke that simply hadn't been _there_ before billowed in between the two Pokemon's faces, spreading its wisps and tendrils like a Tentacruel's tentacles, unfurling and undulating in the ocean, growing and reaching its misty fingers out until it engulfed them both. Lyra craned her neck, alarmed; she couldn't see, couldn't see either Pokemon's face, but she heard the loud, slurpy coughing that she knew was Totodile's, and then, a second later, heard a tiny peep of victory from behind the screen.

"Cyndaquil!" she exclaimed. "Cyndaquil—you learned a new move!"

She heard the boy curse as, a moment later, the fire mouse hopped out from behind the cloud of smoke, nose pointed in the air in victory, and scampered back into position in front of Lyra's legs. The smoke was already clearing behind her, and through the thinning vapor, Lyra could see Totodile rubbing his eyes with his paw and coughing, snorting water onto the pavement in front of him.

"Cyndaquil! That was awesome!" she cried, bending down. "You learned—you learned—" What was the move called again? Something to do with smoke, something like…

"_SmokeScreen. The user releases an obscuring cloud of smoke or ink that reduces the foe's accuracy._"

At the sound of the metallic voice, Lyra flinched and looked up at the boy, who cringed, as if he hadn't been expecting the voice, either, and looked as if he was trying to smother something he was holding in his hands. She peered closer, curious. It was something that looked awfully familiar—a small, square, metal device that fit in the palm of his hand, the last light of dusk glinting off its surface.

No…she knew what he was holding. In fact, she had one tucked into her bag right now.

"A—a Pokedex? Where did you get that?"

The boy's head snapped upward, and he closed his fingers around the Pokedex, as if trying to hide it from her view.

"None of your business, wimp," he snapped. "Doesn't everyone have one?"

"What? No!" She shook her head, confused. "Pokedexes are really rare. In Johto, at least. Are you…are you not from around here?"

"Shut it, wimp. That's not your business, either." The boy's fingers were scrambling to close the Pokedex, jamming it back into the pocket of his pants as quickly as he could, as if he didn't want anyone to see it. Again, as Lyra watched him, she had the creeping feeling that something wasn't right about this. There was just something _off_ about this boy. "Let's just finish the battle now."

"Um…okay." But her mind was still racing. Where had he gotten the Pokedex? And why was he so eager to hide it? There was _something_ about him, something that seemed almost familiar… She reached out, searching her mind, but she couldn't grasp the thought. "Cyndaquil, let's finish this off with a Tackle!"

The boy turned toward the fence, a faint red tinge now coloring his cheeks. He looked as flustered as his Pokemon, who was still blinking and tearing up, trying to clear the smoke from his eyes.

"Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. "How weak."

Lyra couldn't help but scrunch up her nose at his words. Why did the boy have to be so belittling? Most trainers _cheered_ for their Pokemon when they were battling. Did he think that his comments were helping? Because they clearly weren't. Pokemon needed encouragement to battle, not insults.

One more Tackle would do it, now; Totodile was confused, still coughing from the remaining tendrils of smoke. Cyndaquil picked herself up again and launched toward the fence, springing forward and tackling him to the ground. Totodile's tail flew out from underneath him, and this time, when she backed away, he stayed down.

"W-wow, Cyndaquil!" Lyra exclaimed, blinking. She had done it. _They_ had done it. "We won!"

"Cyn-_da_!" Cyndaquil squeaked, bounding over to hug Lyra's ankles. Surprised, her trainer bent down and awkwardly reached out a hand to smooth down her dark green fur. "Queel queel!"

"We did it," Lyra repeated, smiling down at the top of her head.

The boy, meanwhile, was shaking his head at the sprawled figure of his Totodile, his wide, blue jaw pointed into the air, his belly exposed. His trainer was clenching and unclenching his fist at his side, and as they met eyes, he lowered his own.

"That was pathetic. Are you happy you won?" he scoffed.

Lyra bit her lip, not sure how to answer. "I…I guess."

"Pathetic." The boy snorted. "Absolutely pathetic."

Something protested inside her again, and she opened her mouth.

"Look, you could at least try to use words other than 'pathetic,'" she said before she could stop herself.

"Oh, yeah?" the boy sneered. "And what is it to you what I say to my Pokemon?"

If she were Kris, she could come up with some kind of clever retort, now, like, "_Maybe you could expand your vocabulary, then, punk_." But since Lyra was Lyra, she bit her lip and shook her head and looked down at the ground. The grass swayed gently around her shoe.

"Well…well, nothing, really, but…it's not nice. And"—she lifted her head, because she could practically _hear_ him jeering at her words—"more than that, it's not going to help you win, i-if that's what you think. Pokemon need encouraging. Not insulting."

The boy stared at her for a moment, and then curled his lip.

"Well, what do _you_ know about Pokemon?" he sneered. "Do you want to know who I am?"

"Y-yeah?"

He stepped forward, the red lines of his eyebrows harsh against his pale skin. "I…am going to be the world's greatest Pokemon trainer."

Lyra could practically hear Kris's voice, now, echoing in her ear. "_Good luck with that_," she would snort, in the same tone of voice as the boy's, tossing her head. "_Sure, whatever you say. You could hurt yourself, you know. Don't be silly_."

But instead, all that came out when she opened her mouth was, "So am I."

The boy's gray eyes widened for a moment, so quickly that Lyra would have missed it if she had blinked. A ghost of surprise fluttered through them, and then, as if catching himself mid-action, he narrowed his eyes again and peered at her through silver slits.

"Well, good luck with that, weakling. As if a wimp like you could make it."

Lyra swallowed and bowed her head. "G-good luck to you, too."

There it was again: that snap-second of suspicion that flickered through his eyes before the gray shutters slid over them again. "You'll need it. I won't."

And then the boy turned on his heel and walked past Totodile, his strides stiff and abrupt, without even turning. He walked up to Lyra and picked up the lizard Pokemon's Poke Ball from the ground. A beam of red light enveloped the fallen Totodile as he held out the Poke Ball, and as he turned away, Lyra saw something small and papery slip out of his pocket and flutter onto the ground.

"W-wait—you forgot something." She hurried forward, leaning down and plucking it from the ground. It was thin and rectangular, slicing neatly into the space between her fingers. A card She turned it over, and saw a word emblazoned in shiny print above a picture of the boy—scowling and surly, red hair tousled around his face, as usual.

Not just any card, she realized. A trainer card.

"Silver?"

The boy stopped in his tracks. Lyra watched as his right hand curled into a fist, and he whipped around, red streaks of hair flying.

"Give me that!" he yelled, lunging forward, and yanked the card from her hand. As she stepped back, he frowned down at it, eyes flashing. "Oh, no. You saw my name…"

"S-Silver?" she said tentatively. "That's your name?"

"Shut up. It's not important." The boy—_Silver_, she thought—stuffed the card into his pocket and turned away. "Forget you ever saw that." The light of the rising moon reflected the silver of his eyes. Was that fear she saw?

Lyra bit her lip, struggling to fit together the pieces of what she knew about this boy. Silver. His nose and chin were sharp and drawn against the light of the moon. A picture was emerging of him, shimmering into view like the reflection of his eyes. The Pokedex, the way he had seemed surprised and disappointed when he released Totodile for the battle, the lack of connection between trainer and Pokemon that was there even for teams like her and Cyndaquil, the way he didn't want her to see his name…

"That Totodile isn't yours, is it?"

Silver's reaction was immediate; the lines on his face deepened, his mouth twisted downward, contorting his expression into something ugly.

"Shut up! Who do you think you are? You have no idea what the hell you're talking about!"

"Did you…steal it? You did, didn't you?" It wasn't a question. Lyra bit her lip, her happiness at the victory unraveling and draining from all of her veins. What had she just done? Had she just fought an illegally trafficked Pokemon? Was it…_illegal_ to engage in a battle with a criminal and his stolen Pokemon? Had _she_ broken the law? What if she was going to get arrested, now?

_No, you're being paranoid, Lyra_, she told herself, forcing herself to calm down and listen to what Silver was saying.

"Yeah, and so what if I did? You gonna go back and rat on me now?"

_Go back?_ What did he mean by—

"Wait a second!" The thought hit her so hard she didn't know how she hadn't realized it before. The red hair, those glaring eyes… "I know you! I-I saw you this afternoon! You're that boy who was standing by Professor Elm's lab, aren't you?"

"Well, aren't you clever," he snorted, shaking his head. "Go ahead. Go rat on me. See if I care."

"I…I should! I should call Professor Elm right now and—"

"But you won't, will you," he jeered. "Because you're a wimp. I know your kind. You're weak. Pathetic."

"I…I just won that battle," Lyra said, and he fell silent with a glower.

"That's because Totodile was weak," he said, more quietly, clenching his fists. "That just means we have to train more. And we will. Harder. And I'll be the best. And I won't be beaten by people like you ever again!"

"Cyndaquil beat you, not me," Lyra argued. She wasn't sure why she was arguing with him. In fact, she should have felt scared, she thought, scared to be standing so close to a criminal, scared to have battled him, and arguing with him, no less—but somehow, she wasn't. This boy didn't scare her. There was something about him…something that told her he wasn't as cruel as he pretended to be, some gleam of vulnerability in his eyes that splintered a crack in his tough façade. She pressed her palms against the denim of her shorts, inhaling the cooling night air; it was exhilarating, this fearlessness. Maybe it was just the adrenaline from the battle.

"I don't care. Pokemon are just tools. They're either weak or strong. That's all they're good for."

"Well…that's what you think…Silver," she said, and she saw him flinch as she spoke his name, as if she had slapped him.

"Shut up! You don't know my name! You don't know me!"

Lyra swallowed, shocked at the absence of fear she felt even when this boy, this thief, this _criminal_ was flying into a rage, shouting, pointing his fingers at her, his gray eyes wild.

"I-I might not know you," she said carefully, "but I know what you're saying isn't true. Pokemon aren't tools. They're…they're our friends."

Silver didn't speak for a moment, just let out his breath, shaking his head at her. "I'll climb to the top of Mt. Silver before I believe your weakling crap," he spat, and then he turned on his heel and walked away. At the last moment, he turned, glaring at her with his silver eyes. "Go tell on me if you want. But you'll see. I'll be the Champion before they catch me."

She didn't even know where her next words came from, where this fearless energy was brewing, churning, rising out of her throat and becoming her. Becoming Lyra, when all of it was so _un_-Lyra.

"N-not if I get there first."

"Don't bet on it," he sneered, pacing away, and then he was gone.

Lyra stared after him, at the spot in the night sky where he had been standing a minute ago, his shock of red hair and navy clothes bleeding into the darkness. Silver.

"Cyndaaaa," Cyndaquil breathed, plodding up to stand next to her.

She turned, almost surprised to hear her Pokemon's voice, like a hook that dug into her skin and dragged her up from a deep, confusing pool of thought. When she looked down, the scratch on Cyndaquil's shoulder caught her eye—a furrow of pink that etched its way through the clumps of green fur, shallow but visible, there nonetheless.

"Come on, let's get you healed up."

It was a short walk to the Pokemon Center, and Lyra was unspeakably grateful that the people who had designed Cherrygrove City knew what they were doing, placing the city's most important and needed building near the entrance and ready for the tired travelers and trainers with their injured Pokemon. Several trainers were resting in the lobby with their Pokemon, playing lazily with them and chatting with their friends. She spotted a girl with a Hoppip, playing catch, tossing a pencil into the air and watching the grass Pokemon jump up to catch it and then drift down to the floor. A boy nearby was stroking his Drowzee's head, while at another table, a fisherman was cleaning his rod and laughing with his friends. A young couple was cuddling on one of the benches, the boy with his hand buried in his girlfriend's hair, her face nestled in his shoulder. The last sight made Lyra grimace.

She walked up to the desk and smiled at Nurse Joy, who let Cyndaquil climb up on to the table and took her Poke Ball, placing it on the machine behind her. As Lyra turned to leave, pulling on the jacket she had brought in her bag, the nurse stopped her with a friendly smile.

"Are you leaving, sweetie?" Nurse Joy asked, handing back Cyndaquil's Poke Ball. Lyra released her, remembering what Professor Elm had said about walking with her Pokemon. "It's getting a little late, and some of the rooms are starting to fill up. You might want to take one of them."

"I'm just going to go out for a walk," Lyra answered. "I'll be right back. I won't be doing any training or anything."

"Oh, that's fine," Nurse Joy said cheerily. "Take your time, sweetie. It's a beautiful night, and the way things usually go, there'll be plenty of rooms left when you get back."

Lyra thanked her and zipped up her jacket, motioning for Cyndaquil to follow as she headed for the door. She liked to go on walks, after all, to clear her head, to absorb everything that had happened that day. Her first day out training. To think about everything that had happened, all the battles she had fought and the training she had done. To think about Silver. About whether or not she was going to tell Professor Elm about him. And why in the world she was considering _not_ telling him.

If she was honest with herself, the night was making her a little homesick. She imagined the air whistling around her head outside, bringing with it the scent of grass. She would have just finished eating dinner at this time, normally, and been working on homework, if it was a school day. Or, if it was a weekend, she would have been at Ethan's, or he would have been at her house, playing video games or watching their favorite TV shows or baking cookies or just talking about everything and nothing at all.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, in fact, that she hardly noticed a boy brushing by her as she walked through the door, coming the other way. She looked up, blinking, and realized that she had almost run into him. She was about to mutter "sorry" when she realized that it was a boy her age. A boy with black hair and a backward baseball cap and a red sweatshirt, and bright golden eyes that almost made her knees crumple to the ground when they met hers.

"Ethan?"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

Aha! Yes, Ethan's back! I know you all missed him. And now he and Lyra finally meet again! And more lurve will ensue. :D

Sorry for the huge delay, I'm trying to get better at updating more often. I just have trouble focusing on one story, and I keep trying to start new ones and blargh. I'm really sorry, I'll try to improve my updating times! In the meantime, please review, as always, and I hope you enjoyed it!

Any guesses on what the next chapter will be called, by the way? ;)


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